The Terrapin League: The Battle of McKeldin

Part I:

Editor’s note: For this column, all proceeding text in italics/bold must be read in a Ted Knight superhero narrator voice.  If you are unsure what that is, listen to the opening narration in this video.

Last week (year), campus troubles became a national crisis! President Wallace Loh possesses a computer supervirus and plots to destroy all university test results and trap Maryland students in a summer of exam taking, while Terrapin League boys uncover the clues to foil the plot!

MEANWHILE CIA Agent Keith Booth recovers in a New York hospital, refusing to take a day off cracking the case!

Will President Loh succeed in destroying Maryland’s summer?  Will he pass on the technology to ever more dangerous foes?  Will the heroes, unknown to each other, foil the plot before it’s too late?  Read on to find out!

CIA Special Agent Keith Booth, seen here refusing to quit.

CIA Special Agent Keith Booth, seen here refusing to quit.

“This could be the end of public education in America,” said the television on the wall mount.  CIA Special Agent Keith Booth stirred.  Opening his eyes, he could dully make out the blurry outline of New York Congressional Republican Peter King speaking on Fox News.  “The tentacles of Islamo-socialism are tightening their suffocating grip, and ideologically reject mercy,” continued King.

Before he had even regained motion in his fingers, Booth grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand and began furiously and haphazardly dialing.

MEANWHILE in College Park, the ever-techy James Padgett and his lady-killing sidekick Dez Wells have identified the University of Maryland as the target of the supervirus!

“Dez, it explains everything, why Wallace Loh ever even came to College Park.  The target has always been Maryland!” stammered James Padgett, running frantically past the big M toward the Computer Science Building.

“Hold on,” said Dez, jogging much more comfortably, allowing his eyes to trail off after female passerbys.  “Are you sayin’… he actually didn’t come here for the ladies?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.  His collegiate history is written in Iowa, and the data went missing when Iowa and Maryland played in the NIT last month.  I just don’t know where he could have hidden all the servers necessary to hold and run such a virus, it needs – Dez? DEZ!”

Dez Wells, the ladykiller

Dez Wells, the ladykiller

But Dez wasn’t listening.  He had stopped running, unable to resist talking to a tall, slender blond girl who decided that finals were no reason not to don a skirt and tight white tanktop.

“Hey baby, I know you plannin’ on studyin’ some math but I’m tryna study a-broad, get it?”

She giggled.

“Where you studyin’ at?” he asked her.

“Haha, McKeldin!” she said, still giggling.

“Damnit Dez!  This is serious!  We have to stop this plot!”  Padgett was losing patience, but Dez paid him little attention.

“Yeah man, in a minute.  So girl, what you say we study together?  I know some quiet places up there we can study together with a lil’ privacy, kno what I’m sayin’?”

The girl giggled.  “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, ain’t you ever wonder why half the fifth floor ain’t on the map?”

Padgett lost his cool.

“STOP THINKING WITH YOUR DICK, DEZ, OR WE’RE ALL – wait, what?” he stopped, finally listening to Dez, who had continued flirting as if Padgett didn’t exist.

“Yeah girl, it’s like a super secret study spot, lemme show you!”

Before the girl could respond, Padgett had switched gears.  “We’re going there right now!”

“Uhh, we’re not doin’ a science project wit you Principal Skinner,” said Dez tersely, but Padgett had already grabbed Dez by the arm and was dragging him back up Campus Drive toward McKeldin Library while the girl looked on, confused and disappointed.

"The fifth floor has no West Wing."

“The fifth floor ain’t on the map.”

Meanwhile in a hidden super secret location!

“What does it mean, Clayton?” asked Wallace Loh, smiling maliciously.

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?” demanded retired University of Maryland President C. Daniel Mote, bound on a wooden wheel on the floor of a mysterious, dark room, before his voice collapsed in exhaustion.

Loh considered Mote for a moment.  “Normally I would say, ‘you tell me the information I desire first,’ Clayton.  But perhaps you’ll like my master plot.  Perhaps you’ll even assist me.”

Both men were silent for a moment.

Loh continued: “The year before I came here, you may remember a massive snowstorm during finals.  They were cancelled.  You apologized to the students and parents, because students had to retake their exams in January, just before the start of the spring semester.”

“Most embarrassing moment of my career,” spat Mote.

Winter 2009-2010: Shoveline snow and taking finals.

Winter 2009-2010: Shoveling snow and taking finals.

“It was beautiful.  Winter break was…  nonexistent,” said Loh, his eyes lit with a tantric glow.  “Students spent a month and a half indoors studying. The few who went outside and frolicked in the snow, had in the back of their minds the shame and the guilt – I should be studying!  Sarah Bellum reined supreme!”

“So you will…” coughed Mote, “delete finals records… trap students … in a summer of finals?”  He was slowly gaining his breath.

“We control the weather… tornadoes… bombings… we’ll keep delaying finals until August.  Those kids won’t see an ounce of sunlight this summer,” laughed Loh.  “But then there came this … prophecy.   Now, the chip is in, those codes will be unleashed eventually, but to … cover our backs… we should really know what it’s about. Rodman told me you’d know what it meant,” he continued, pacing around the room.  Mote was following him with curiousity.  Prophecy?

 “But I don’t think I need to tear it out of you…” Loh continued.  “Think of all we could do with them for a whole summer, Clayton.  We could build an entire country.”

“And I’ll be rich,” added Studley, absently plugging away at a large computer mainframe in the smoky background.

“And if anyone gets in our way,” added Loh.  “We’ll kill them mercilessly.  Including you,” he said to Mote.  “What do you say, Clayton?  Can you tell me what the prophecy means?”

Mote lifted his head.

C. Daniel Mote, seen here dominating.

C. Daniel Mote, seen here dominating.

“It means, long live the ACC!” he spat in defiance.  But within seconds he was screaming in pain.

Back in New York, Special Agent Keith Booth is hot on the trail of Loh and Studley!

“Dammit Booth, take a break!” stammered Booth’s mustached boss.  “That’s an order, dammit man!  You need rest!”

“Ain’t no rest for the wicked,” said Booth.  “I’m on to something.”

Booth had indeed discovered something on University of Iowa power forward Whitman Studley.  Though Studley had a massive prescription for a drug called ‘Adderall’ which he kept refilling, his urine samples, collected from what remained of Rikers Island Jail, proved empty of the substance.  Moreover, all his teammates had prescriptions to Adderall, but none of them ever checked into a pharmacy to collect their prescriptions themselves.  It seemed that Studley was collecting them himself.

“I don’t care Booth!” stammered his boss.  “Let it go dammit! Give up!”

“Now,” Booth said, speaking more to himself as his chubby boss stood there fuming, “scientific research and studies conducted over the last four years, as well as investigative research by the CIA, ATF, FBI, MI6, the ACLU, all in conglomeration with seventeen public universities and all eight Ivy League schools, suggests there may be a possible link between Adderall use and major collegiate exams with students.”

Booth’s reddening boss was almost literally boiling, with hot air bursting out of his face.  What was this nonsense?!

“Some people even suspect a few kids are using the medication without prescriptions!”

“God dammit BOY THAT’S THE DUMBEST IDEA YOU’VE COME UP WITH YET!” roared Booth’s loose-tie, swollen-prostate boss.  “DAMMIT I WANT YOUR BADGE IN MONDAY MORNING!”

Keith Booth's boss watching a ballet recital.

Keith Booth’s boss watching a ballet recital.

Booth hadn’t noticed anything.  “This is all theory… but it seems Studley, if he’s selling his Adderall to other students, would have something to gain by prolonging final exams for multiple colleges.”

Booth pulled out the last piece of evidence, a fortune from the now-shuttered Panda Express in College Park, conspicuously found at the wreckage of Riker’s Island Jail.

Only that which has never been felt before, can truly ignite the beast within.

It was signed by Dennis Rodman.  “Loh is plotting something on campus,” said Booth, after reading the evidence.  “But …. Chief, who did Dennis Rodman insist on meeting after he got back from North Korea?”

“DAMMIT BOOTH!” roared the aging, bizarrely stressed man.  “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK DAN MOTE MATTER TO AN INVESTIGATION OF THIS MAGNITUDE, AND RODMAN, WHY WE HAD TO DEBRIEF THAT FOOL, DAMMIT I WANT YOUR BADGE, TURN IT IN!”

“Oh my God…” whispered Booth.  He grabbed a phone.

Meanwhile, inside McKeldin itself, the terrible truth unknown to them, superheroes Alex Len and Nick Faust continued their argument about the merits of the Thirsty Turtle Times.  Was its content a giant fallacy? Is it an underground vein of truth in a world of lies?  Does it matter?

“FAUST, JESUS CHRIST MAN” screamed Len, his Ukrainian accent and broken English more pronounced in his hysterical anger, “IF YOU DON’T STOP SPREADING THIS BULLSHIT LIES I WILL FORGET HOW GOOD AND LOYAL FRIEND YOU ARE!  I CHOKE YOU!”

The scene on McKeldin's fourth floor.

The scene on McKeldin’s fifth floor.

“Yo man,” said Faust, remarkably calm, “All I’m sayin’ is the Thirsty Turtle Times keeps it realer than Kraft Cheese, kno what I’m sayin?”

“IDIOT!” bellowed Len.  “KRAFT CHEESE IS MADE FROM CHEESE PRODUCT, IS NOT REAL CHEESE!  IS FAKE LIKE THIRSTY TURTLE TIMES!”

“Dude,” said Faust.  “You shoulda leff that temper back in Russia.”

Len exploded.

“I AM FROM UKRAINE!”

There was a corresponding shatter.

The guttural roar was apparently enough to break glass on both sides of the floor, bringing a cool breeze came through the hallway.  The boys heard several movements within the building; it seemed as if it hadn’t felt a breeze in years.  White, pasty nerds scurried for darkness and stillness.  Len coughed, gesturing that his anger had abated.

“GUYS!”

Before anyone else spoke, James Padgett burst into the hallway, with Dez Wells coming in right behind him.  He was frantic.

“MARYLAND IS THE TARGET!”

“Of what?” asked Len, as a large gust of spring wind blew through the entire floor.

“Prolly that” said Dez, pointing up.  The ceiling tiles had begun to move.  One in particular was moving mechanically upward.

“DAMN son, whatchu do?” yelled Faust at Len, as more ceiling tiles suddenly began moving up into the ceiling.  Within a few seconds, every tile was moving up, shifting sideways and vanishing, while the ceiling frames too shifted sideways into the walls.

The room was morphing.

McKeldin Library's fifth floor.

Inside McKeldin Library.

PART II:

On McKeldin Library’s fourth floor, there is not but an ominous stairway into darkness where a sizable part of the ceiling used to be.  Brave they were, those boys, to ascend the stairs, and find not more books or computers, but a terrible site indeed –  in a dark, misty room, their former president, Dan Mote, was bound and racked!

“President Mote!” yelled Len, running forth to release him.  “What happened?!  Are you ok?”

But before Mote could fail to answer, a cold, ominous voice came from the corner of the room.

“That’s it?  A gust of wind?  The prophecy was about a breeze?”

“Mis – Mistah Loh?” breathed Wells.  “Whatchu doin up here?  What’s goin’ on?”

“Don’t worry boys,” said Loh, responding with an eerily still smile to Wells, while Len checked Dr. Mote’s pulse and everyone else stood behind him, rooted to the floor.  “The prophecy spoke of me.   I am the beast.  And now I must liberate this campus.”

James Padgett took a step forward.  “You monster!  You – you’re not going anywhere!

“On the contrary James, we’re all going everywhere,” said Loh, slowly raising his hand and snapping his fingers.

There was a rush of wind and rumble of Earth ground, and all was chaos.

-

Dr. Loh operating his tornadoes.

Dr. Loh seen here exiting McKeldin Library

Outside, Studley stood ready on Regents Drive, watching McKeldin Library as its upper floors crumbled inside and into a twirling mass of concrete.

Students had already been pouring out onto the Mall to witness the calamity from a safe distance.  A massive, laborious tornado had engulfed the library and was expanding still, making incredibly slow, deep booming noises and seemingly willing to swallow everything – except one large projectile.

A thick, suited figure was blasted forth into the air, falling gracefully toward the students.  Some tried to catch him, but Dan Mote hit the grass with a terribly loud thud nonetheless.

Students were screaming.  With one big gasp, Mote opened his eyes.  Vision blurry, he was able to make out a large, dark outline of a young, bald black man leaning over him.

“There is…” he began, as many more shapes began to appear around him.  “There is another…”

“Another what?” asked the man.  “What is it, Dr. Mote?”

“Testudo.  There is… another… Testudo.” and with that, Dr. Mote breathed no more.

-

Students were running, screaming, scrambling.  McKeldin Library lay in ruins, and a tornado, too slow to believe, was sluggishly twirling in its wreckage.

“Murderer!” shouted Padgett, climbing out of a pile of rubble.

“We gotta stop that mothafucka!” burst Wells, tumbling out of a pile of papers.

“Shit, I knew he evil,” mumbled Faust, crawling out of the fountain.

Alex Len in this real photo.

Alex Len in this definitely real photo.

“STUDENTS OF MARYLAND!” bellowed Alex Len, stumbling onto the biggest pile of rubble he could find.  The panic subsided, undercut by the low rumble of the strangely graceful tornado behind.

“I came to this land from Ukraine,” he said.  He was calmer than he felt.  “And I understood less English than engineering department.  I only dreamed of a life of fast cars and loose women, with rock & roll music and lots of success for myself!”

The screaming and yelling had stopped.  Silence prevailed.

“But in America you have this word called “team,” which I initially thought was gay orgy.  But I realized it could be a cause for great crime-fighting.  And so we formed the Terrapin League!  It was we who ousted Marcus Plummer, we who stopped the natural disasters, we who defeated the College Park Cuddler, and we who drove Vito Riccio out of town!” he declared.  But he was interrupted.

“TRY YOUR BEST, TERRAPIN LEAGUE!”

Wallace Loh had reappeared, standing in front of a dislodged Testudo, at the base of what used to be his school’s flagship building.  His tornado continued behind him, like an obedient servant waiting to clear its master’s plate.  “It’s over boys.  The virus is already taking effect.  You’re mine all summer!”

But Len continued. “ Now we call upon you for our help!” he yelled to the students, his eyes still on Loh.  And as he said it, students began to shift toward him.  Some of their eyes began fixating on Loh as well.

Loh kept laughing.  “Ok, let’s do it your way,” he said quietly.  Then he snapped his fingers again.

There was a louder rumble than the slow tornado.  From behind what remained of McKeldin Library, there came great stomping noises.  Frozen, the students and the Terrapin League watched as, coming from all angles, behind McKeldin, Tydings Hall, Chincoteague, and Jiminez Hall, marched several massive contingents of an army the rest of the school had only ever seen on televisions or computer screens.

North Korea!” yelled James Padgett.  “I should have known they were behind this!”

The scene on McKeldin Mall.

The scene on McKeldin Mall.

Loh was cackling.

“It’ll all end soon boys.  Alex, come this way, and I’ll spare the rest.  I need some students left to actually take the finals I’ll be administering all summer,” he said smiling.  “But they won’t miss just one.”

Momentary silence revealed that the stomping noises had paused.

“What?” said Len.

Loh pulled a small handgun out of his pocket.  “Let’s go,” he said, no longer smiling, beckoning Len with it.

“Bullshit,” said Faust.  Len stared on, having not moved an inch.  Then he turned to face Loh entirely.  Presently he accepted what he had to do.  And as he did, taking one step forward, he began to hear a low hum in his ear.

There were angry protests and screams.  The student body, terrified, yet brave enough to protest, did so helplessly as reality set in.  Loh intended to execute Len before all of them.

The hum grew louder.  This must be what the end sounds like, thought Len.

“Don’t go, dude!” yelled Wells.

Len walked forward, the humming increasing in his ears.

Loh was still.  Len stepped up to the top step – he was much taller than Loh, who didn’t recoil, but appeared a little shaken.  He began raising his gun.  Len didn’t flinch.  The humming was growing louder still.  As Loh’s eye’s began to flicker, and students began looking around, Len closed his eyes.  He momentarily recalled the stories his grandfather used to tell him of being made to dig his own grave by S.S. soldiers.

Even if they did succeed in killing me, his grandfather had said, It would have been a failure.  They came to subdue us.  They couldn’t conquer the East.

“Alex,” muttered Padgett.  “You… you don’t have to do this.”

Len turned his head back for a moment.

Alex Len

Alex Len

“I know this won’t be easy for you,” he said to Padgett.  “But you need to tank those finals.”  And as he turned back to face his destiny, the humming became a low rumble.

Len turned his head back, staring into Loh’s twitching eyes.  Loh had fixated the gun between Len’s furrowed eyebrows.  The rumbling grew louder.

They couldn’t even kill me.

Len smirked.

BANG!

Loh snapped back – he hadn’t pulled the trigger.  So where did the bang come from?  As he and everyone else looked up behind the Administration building, one student didn’t – Alex Len, whose opportunist fist was already launching into Loh’s face.  The last thing Loh saw was a massive, fire-breathing steel… turtle?

The lights went out.

-

Looking onto to the scattering standabouts on McKeldin Mall was the strangest behemoth any of the students or North Korean soldiers had ever seen, and the University of Maryland’s greatest secret.

It was a massive, mechanized Testudo, the size of a small sports arena.  Fully automated, with moving legs, and a swiveling head which thrusted forth a bronze-capped steel snout, it’s eyes were red, its legs a thick spiral of interlocking metal parts, its shell a huge spiked silver hull, and on top, wielding old-fashioned reins, was Special Agent Keith Booth.  Long-rumored, rarely mentioned, it existed, it was massive, and it was bearing down on the battlefield.

“EASY Girl!” Booth yelled down as he was carried over McKeldin Mall, as the massive Mecha-Testudo blasted huge bursts of flames at scattering North Korean soldiers.

Special Agent Booth riding Mecha-Testudo.

Special Agent Booth riding Mecha-Testudo.

“It’s real!!!” shouted Padgett, running and skipping toward Mecha-Testudo.  Faust was laughing hysterically.

The few North Korean soldiers who hadn’t taken off tried to shoot back.  The bullets seemed to bounce off Mecha-Testudo’s hull.  Now Booth was laughing.  As he wheeled Mecha-Testudo over Alex Len, the young Ukranian looked up at the underbelly of the great mechanical beast.  Stamped in letters no bigger than a license plate was a name no one had read or heard in a long time.

East Campus

“HEY KIM!” Booth called to the dazed man lying on the ground, waving a Natural Light beer in the sunlight.  Loh stirred.  “I found the beer!”

And Loh shook his head just in time to see a Natural Light beer in his face, before the lights went out again.

But for Whitman Studley, the mission carried on.

“He’s getting’ away!” shouted Wells, taking chase.

Studley was laughing as he hurled the walls over Jiminez Hall, heading for Loh’s idling tornado, which had drifted to Campus Drive.  With the virus still spreading, all he had to do was escape.

It seemed all was lost, and even with him vanquished, nothing could stop the completion of Dr. Loh’s master plot!  With no hope left, wait, what’s that in the East?!  It’s a bird! It’s a plane!  It’s… Pe’Shon Howard!  He comes out of nowhere and snags Studley from flight inches before his escape.

Pe’shon slammed Studley upon the ruins of McKeldin Library, and out of Studley’s pocket came the virus chip.

“Pe’Shon!” exclaimed Len.  “You son of a bitch!”

Pe’Shon Howard kicked his sneaker jets off and threw Len a reassuring scowl.  “You think I’d miss this party?”

Arrival of Pe'Shon Howard.

Arrival of Pe’Shon Howard.

Grabbing the chip, he tossed it up to Booth.

“Thank you!” shouted Booth haphazardly, plugging the chip into the back of Mecha-Testudo’s head.  “What the hell do I do now?”

“It’s s’posed to work!” said Pe’shon.  “Wait… Rodman said… you have to tell the machine to interpret the orders manually, or something.”

“WHAT IS THIS – SIRI?” screamed Booth, sarcastically.

It’s a self-patronizing mechanism, Keith,came a voice from Mecha-Testudo’s head.  “Provide patronization, and you will have access to the University of Maryland Mainframes.”

Everyone went silent.  Everyone except Dez Wells, who was standing behind the same blond girl he had been flirting with earlier, staring at her backside.

Maryland…. we’re all behind you,” he began, dancing rhythmically, looking around, and back.  “Raise high the black and gold ..”

“For there is nothing half so glorious,” joined in Padgett and Faust.

“AS TO SEE OUR TEAM VICTORIOUS!” joined Booth, Pe’Shon, and Len.

And soon the rest of the school joined in, even Dr. Loh in his disorientation:

“We’ve got the steam boys,

We’ve got the team boys,

So keep on fighting, don’t give in!

M-A-R-Y-L-A-N-D

Maryland will win!”

And that glorifying music did the trick!  Under Special Agent Booth’s command, Mecha-Testudo manually disabled the terrible virus, preserving students’ finals records just in time!  And with the North Korean Army defeated, the heroes gathered with Wallace Loh and Whitman Studley safely captured!

"No comment."

“No comment.”

“I TOLD you he was evil!” said Faust, pointing at Loh.

Loh shook himself out his daze yet again.  He and Studley were bound together, on the grass of McKeldin Mall.  There was a huge mark where the full beer had hit his head, but the gash simply looked abnormal.  There wasn’t any blood.

“He don’t even bleed right,” said Wells.

“Actually, that ain’t Wallace Loh,” said Pe’Shon Howard.  Booth was nodding.

“Indeed,” said Booth.  “We learned a number of things from Dennis Rodman.  One of them is that only the Dear Leader himself could harness the magical power of the tornadoes, which means…”

Len himself, having felt the imposter Loh’s face himself, understood.  He grabbed Loh’s scalp and pulled.  Off came the mask.

“It’s Kim Jong-un!” gasped Padgett.  “Of course!”

“And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you medderin’ Terrapins!” spat Kim.

“I TOLD YOU!” spat Len, taking everybody aback, as he glared at Faust. “I told you Wallace Loh is a good man and would never hurt his students!”

“Nah son, he had to have somethin’ to do with this…” Faust retorted.

“The real Loh has been trapped in North Korea since he visited there two years ago,” added Booth. “He hasn’t made a single policy decision yet!”

“So he COULD still be evil!” stammered Faust.

“ENOUGH FAUST!” sputtered Len, while everyone else laughed.

“But what about the prophecy?” interjected Padgett.

“Well,” began Booth, pulling out the fortune.

Only that which has never been felt before, can truly ignite the beast within.

Kim after his plot was foiled.

Kim after his plot was foiled.

“Loh, er, Kim, I mean, clearly thought it only referred to fresh air blowing through McKeldin Library. But with a little help from President Mote, I realized it also alluded to Mecha-Testudo here, hiding underneath the ground, in the woods, east of Route One,” he explained.  He was gesturing toward the massive Mecha-Testudo, who took a break from slowly rebuilding McKeldin Library to loom over the proceedings with interest.

“East Campus ain’t never gonna break ground!” said Faust.

“Exactly!” said Booth.

“DAMMIT BOOTH!” came an angry voice.  It was Booths mustached, corpulent, cigar-smoking boss, waddling up to the scene, scowling widely.  “YOU DONE A FINE JOB HERE, DAMMIT.”

“Well,” said Booth, ignoring him, “it seems like another semester is in the books in College Park!”

“Thanks to da Terrapin League!” said Dez Wells, removing one of his arms from the beautiful young blond he had it wrapped around to put it instead the center of the group. Padgett, Len, Faust, and Pe’Shon joined in.

“Sorry I was late fellas,” said Pe’Shon, putting his fist up.  “I may be transferring, but I’ll always have the Terrapin League’s back!”

Dan Mote then walked around the corner.  “I wouldn’t miss this party either!”

“Dr. Mote!” the boys yelled.  “We thought you were dead!”

“Nope!” he said.  “Let’s get off to Happy Hour!”

“Is there room for oversized patrons?” came Siri’s voice from Mecha-Testudo.

Mecha-Testudo!” laughed everyone.  The boys, Booth, Dr. Mote, and Mecha-Testudo put their hands together.

“THE POWERS OF THE TERPS, ACTIVATE!” they declared as one, beaming themselves up into the air and off toward RJ Bentley’s.

And so, the Terrapin League prevailed!  Kim Jong-Un was sent back to North Korea, where he would have to continue plotting how to ruin everybody’s good fun!  Dr. Loh was returned to begin his tenure as president, making his first decision the total cancellation of all remaining finals.  The boys had saved the day.  And until then and beyond, where there’s trouble, the Terrapin League will be there, protecting life, liberty, and the pursuit of partying!  Carry on boys, Fear the Turtle!

You go, boys.

You go, boys.

William Wallace contributed to this report.  He can be reached at thirstyturtletimes@gmail.com

Twitter: @thirstytimes

Thanks for keeping up with the Thirsty Turtle Times.  See you in another life!

Adventures of the Terrapin Boys: Rise of Dr. Loh

Editor’s note: For this column, all proceeding text in italics/bold must be read in a Ted Knight superhero narrator voice. If you are unsure what that is, listen to the opening narration in this video.

Starting here:

Last month, we saw the government take action after a University of Iowa basketball player, mistaking the famous Chrysler Building as an ear of corn, attempted to harvest the entire tower.  This followed nationwide riots after the Maryland Men’s basketball team defeated Duke at the battle of ACC. As politicians declared the acts blatant terrorism, authorities turned to Dr. Wallace Loh, current President of UMD and former provost at Iowa. 

This week we return to UMD’s McKeldin Library, where local basketball superstar Alex Len and his ever-faithful sidekick, Nick Faust, are found studying hard for their upcoming finals!

At least, one of them is.

Nick Faust

Nick Faust, the fun-loving fighter

“Hey Alex, why you studying so hard man? You’ll be joining the NBA makin’ bills anyway!” said the young Faust, arms crossed over a basketball. Alex didn’t lift his eyes from his textbook, but a smirk broke across his concentrated face.

“Because man,” he said in his fading Ukranian accent. “There are higher pursuits than money! Knowledge is a power only the learners know.”

“Wordsmith,” said Faust, sprouting a jealous smile. “What will brains do for a professional b-ball playa?” Now Alex looked at him.

“As long as I have an educated voice, it’s one more for freedom, peace, and tolerance in an oppressed, wartorn, hateful world.”

Faust was laughing. “You crazy man.”

“No,” said Len, whose smile had vanished as his eyes returned to his textbook. “This world is.”

-

Alex Len

Alex Len, warrior for good.

Meanwhile, in a sealed room of the FBI’s New York office in Federal Plaza, CIA interrogator Keith Booth closed the steel door behind him, waited for the sound of the sliding bolt, and turned to face the lone man seated at the small table, with his hands cuffed behind his back.

“What took you so long to find me?” asked Dr. Wallace D. Loh, smiling, wearing his best suit, presenting as though he were greeting a new freshman at orientation.

CIA Agent Keith Booth

CIA Agent Keith Booth

Booth was not amused. “What the hell are you up to Loh? Why are your students threatening American buildings and people? And where is that chip?”

“Americans?” chortled Loh. “You think this is about politics?”

“I don’t care what it’s about, my job is to stop it. I never liked you Loh, that’s why I moved to Loyola and finally quit this whole business together. Now I’m doing what I love, grilling little punks like you until they shit out sideways everything I need. Don’t make it come to that. I’m giving you one more chance, and you better answer me: WHAT ARE YOU PLANNING?”

“It doesn’t matter,” whispered Loh. “You’re too late!”

-

Dr. Wallace D. Loh

Dr. Wallace D. Loh

Back in College Park, brilliant computer genius James Padgett was telling his unyielding friend-fo-lyfe and total ladykiller Dez Wells about a new threat to technologically advanced society, but Dez finds it hard to pay attention.

“It’s a supervirus,” James said, out of breath while walking briskly across Chapel Field. “It can break through any firewall to other like networks. And all it does is swallow files. And from what I learned during my one-day internship in New York right after the NIT Final Four, it was stolen out of the city last month!”

“Which one-day internship? You always doing something techy man” said Dez.

“Well,” sputtered James. “I really see a fut-”

“DAMN son!” exclaimed Dez. “Look at those legs! Man I love skirt day. MAN I LOVE MAY.”

“Dez, pay attention, this is serious! Whoever owns that chip could tank the files of an entire network, like the CIA, or Google or,” James went silent, his jaw dropping.

“YEAH MAN, you see that girl’s skirt? Ohhh hike it girl.”

-

“Don’t play games with me!” stammered Keith Booth, calmer now, but fiercer. “What happened at McKeldin Library two weeks ago?”

James Padgett, the tech guy.

James Padgett, the tech guy.

Loh scoffed. “Pfft. What’d your boys tell you? Oh wait, let me guess. Someone ‘said something suspicious,’ and you evacuated the building and found nothing?”

Booth went silent. “You’ve been in solo custody without your constitutional rights. How do you know that?”

“Tell me Agent Booth,” said Loh, a sinister smile breaking wide across his face, as a strange rushing sound surrounded them. “Did you find the beer?”

BOOM!

The concrete walls of the cell evaporated in a tremendous explosion, leaving only the steel door standing.  Booth lay motionless on the ground.

Loh, though covered in soot, had not moved an inch.

“Here Agent Booth,” he said, placing a Natural Light beer on the table. “Have one on me.”

-

Dez Wells, the ladykiller

Dez Wells, the ladykiller

Alex Len shut his textbook.

“Man,” said Faust, who had finally opened his own. “I ain’t never seen you close a textbook in my whole life.”

“Yeah?” responded Len. “Well I’ve never seen you open one.”

Faust didn’t laugh. “Not cool bro. What’s wrong with you?”

Len sighed. “I am sorry friend. You are a good any loyal teammate. I’m just… distracted. Something doesn’t add up.”

“Dude, you CRAZY! Now I just wish you would study.”

“Nick, this place was evacuated for a bomb threat, but no one was ever accused, nobody knows what that kid even said to get the whole place evacuated.”

“Yo man,” said Faust, his face flattening. “I read in the Thirsty Turtle Times WHICH THE ENTIRE MEN’S BASKETBALL TEAM READS that it was just beer dude.”

“Nick,” said Len, whose face was somehow flatter than Faust’s. “The Thirsty Turtle Times is a rag. Nothing printed in it is true, it’s like a crappy ripoff of The Onion.”

“Nah dude, it’s real. And I heard it’s actually more inspired by Andy Borowitz…”

“…who writes fake news. It’s all parody, man,” stammered Len, slowly losing patience.

“Dude, they keep it real. It’s all the truth.”

-

As the boys continued the debate of ethics in journalism, trouble brewed at Rikers Island! Iowa Basketball star Whitman Studley’s bail has been revoked for stealing corn from Hurricane Sandy shelters. Here in the grand mess hall he sits, too vigilant even to eat his lunch, telling stories of corn famine to compete with fellow inmates’ tales of violence and testicular fortitude in streets of New York! How long will it hold out?

Rikers

Rikers Island Jail

“That’s when Daddy said ‘Son, we gon’ be livin off da locusts now,’ and I said, ‘why pop?’ And he said ‘Cuz they ate all da corn and got da nutrints from ‘em!’” he said, looking nervously around at his lunching fellow inmates.

“I’m also in here because of corn,” said Krazy-8, a well-built man with cartel tattoos on his right bicep. “I shoved a whole stock down his throat.”

“Uh…”

“I’ve had enough of you Iowa boy,” said Tuco, another tattooed man, much larger, with a shaved head and trimmed goatee, standing up across the table.  Whitman looked on, expressionless, as other inmates scattered, knocking over chairs to get out of the way, masking a low but growing rushing sound. “You feel me?”

As Tuco stepped onto his stool, a license plate, fresh off Rikers Jail’s own press, landed in front of him. It was a Maryland plate, “LOH 1.”

The resulting silence in the cafeteria unveiled the now thunderous rushing sound.

BOOM!

The walls of the mess hall crumbled as inmates scattered for cover. A full tornado had done what no criminal had ever done, and broken into Rikers Island Jail, with an entire floor of blood and rubble to prove it.  As the tornado rapidly dissipated in supernatural fashion, a fully suited man burst from its center as if he were an Olympic diver.  Somersaulting forth and landing on his feet in front his own license plate, Dr. Wallace Loh gazed down at a the wide-eyed, gaping Tuco, who was covered in dust and still had one foot on his stool.

“Pardon me good sir, but this man and I have a date with destiny,” he said, as he looked over at Studley. “Where are your personal effects?”

Dr. Loh's arrival to Rikers Island.

Dr. Loh’s arrival to Rikers Island.

Studley pointed in the direction of the jail’s front office.  Loh promptly waved his hands in that direction, and in one swift fluid motion, the tornado looped to the far wall, smashed it to pieces, and whirled right back before the wall had fully crumbled.  The noise was deafening. As it returned, the tornado dissipated, clothes fell into Studley’s lap and a small USB drive landed in Loh’s outstretched hand.

“They only found homework on it?”

Studley nodded.

“You did well,” Loh said, cracking a smile. “Within one week, the University of Maryland’s entire collective servers will crash, taking with them the records of every final exam! They’ll be redoing them all summer!”

“Jolly,” said Studley suddenly in a British accent, as he changed back into his street clothes. “About time too. If I had to put on that stupid Iowan persona for another bloody minute, things would have gotten awful nasty. Well, maybe not a minute. I probably could have performed for another hour or two, maximum.”

“Hey,” said Loh to Studley. “How do you know the toothbrush was invented in Iowa?”

“I ain’t got a clue, do I?”

“Because,” said Loh, whipping up the tornado with a snap of his fingers, “if it were invented anywhere else, they’d have called it a teethbrush!”

As inmates of Rikers Jail slowly gathered their bearings, rising out of mountains of broken concrete, many of them witnessed a massive tornado whipping out of a spectacular cavity in the walls of their mess hall, mysteriously laughing itself into the clouds.

To be concluded…

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FRANK MAYO: Stuck in China

Yeah, I’m stuck in China.

Some of you may wonder where the hell I have been for the past year or so, most of you don’t give a shit. Needless to say, this is the first time I have access to a VPN, so this may be my only chance to communicate to the outside world for awhile.

Real fucking romantic

Real fucking romantic

I don’t care if you already took a BuzzFeed break for Rebecca Martinson.  “The 35 cutest (insert animal) wearing (insert clothing/accessory) on (insert social media channel)” article can wait for you to read my tale of tragedy and triumph. Yes, instead of whining about another Hollywood back-alley abortion, I am going to fill you in on what has happened in my life since my last review.

In an attempt to patch things up with my bitch devil wife, I bought two plane tickets for us to go to Beijing. Far from a sun soaked beach in Puerto Rico, My wife insisted that Beijing was the “spiritual epicenter” to continue her lukewarm attempts at meditation and veganism.  Honestly it would take a lifetime supply of Prozac to swallow her logical fallacies, but I needed that for the overnight flight.

trash pileFrom the minute we stepped off the plane, we were trudging through dense smog which smelt like cigarettes, sewage water and “Chou Doufu,” the stinky tofu whose stench could only be understood by someone living in China, peddlers with knockoff bags, and half an inch of condensed mucus. Every hostel had bugs, at least every one that I was willing to pay for. And the restaurants didn’t seem interested in clearing their food of bones or bullets before serving it.

As we pushed and shoved through the mindless herds to witness China’s “natural beauty”, I couldn’t help but describe my spiritual awakening to little miss religious studies 101.  But she acted like I was belittling and condescending to everyone.  What a tribal hippie cunt.  You know who else is a tribal hippie cunt? Anyone who ever posts Instagram photos of their Cherokee Hair Tampons. They need to be punted.

Not Sabrina

Not Sabrina

After 72 hours of the harsh realities of China living, my wife and I grabbed the next flight home. But when I say “she and I” I mean she and my passport, wallet and cell phone.

Yes, my wife stranded me in China.

Two hours of screaming and a fifth of Jack later, I was able to calm down and grab a local prostitute to reenact a beloved American Psycho scene. I can’t quite explain what I did to her because I think even China would have laws against it. However, I will tell you that she responded to Sabrina, and only to Sabrina, the entire evening.

Strapped for cash, I kicked Sabrina out of the hostel and quickly found the job that every single foreigner has in China: English teacher. It’s a fairly easy job and pays well enough to support my newfound bootleg DVD and Baijiu addictions. Through the course of this new experience, I feel I have began to understand Chinese culture better.

In one of my private tutoring sessions, I backhanded a child for coughing without covering his mouth. Some may think my tactics are extreme, but those people don’t realize only the extreme survive. I spent the rest of the hour teaching him how to say, “My teacher bitch-slapped me.”

peskin heartWhen his father came to pick him up, the boy recited to him in perfect English, “Hello father, my teacher bitch-slapped me!” The father’s face lit up and displayed a tremendous smile. As he walked away with his child, he continued to thank me and even tipped me extra.  Waiters and waitresses aren’t even tipped in China. I still tutor the child, and to this day I still find myself wondering if the father was proud for his child’s improved pronunciation or happy because I smacked his kid.

United for English

They say travelling makes us better citizens, because we learn better and more efficient ways of doing things. And since coming to China, I’ve learned we Americans are allowing the mutilation of our language. We give too much leniency towards half-assed English pronunciation.

In China, there is no room for error.

Obviously tones and vowels can change the meaning of a word, however, is that an excuse to forego common sense? If I, a foreigner, am asking for a bottle of scotch, and I am saying the correct words, but with the wrong pronunciation, shouldn’t it be a little obvious of my intent? Is it such a quantum leap?

It is in China, too great even for them to figure out. They will not acknowledge me if my pronunciation isn’t perfect. And it’s time for US citizens to form a united front against broken English.

peskin mountains

Photos by Frank Mayo

So, this is what I propose: If we hear incorrect pronunciation, we shall not acknowledge the existence of the word. Let’s see how outsiders feel when “herro” just won’t cut it anymore.

And before you readers comment about how ignorant, racist and obnoxious I am, this unified front includes all the stupid accents we have within the US as well. Car is spelt C-A-R. Notice how the correct spelling has an R. I don’t care where you grew up or what part of life you are compensating for.  We all learned the alphabet, we all took part in the great American education system, now it’s time to embrace it and take the goddamn marbles out of your mouth.

I would continue, but I’d rather catch up on China’s version of “The Big Bang Theory” while I still have a working VPN. I will reach out when I can and continue to piss and moan about life in China. It will be shameless, grotesque and unfiltered. So if you’d rather continue your BuzzFeed article, fuck you. And an especially big fuck you to my bitch devil wife. Cheers.

Frank Mayo is a 2005 graduate of Syrit College. He can be reached at sniffthismuffdiver@yahoo.com or on Twitter @TheFrankMayo

McKeldin Library Evacuated After Beer Threats

COLLEGE PARK – A strange scene unfolded on campus last Wednesday, when an apparent beer threat led to a full evacuation of McKeldin Library.  The incident began when a student made an unusual comment to the front desk, which the Thirsty Turtle Times can now exclusively confirm was alluding to a 30 rack of Natural Light beer.

“I will funnel all six floors right now, I swear to God” the suspect allegedly said, asking for his beer back.

Students were evacuated while alcoholic beverages were cleared. (Photo by Christian Jenkins/ The Diamondback)

Students were evacuated while alcoholic beverages were cleared. (Photo by Christian Jenkins/ The Diamondback)

“I was just reading my copy of The Engineering Magazine, when that guy in sunglasses and a muscle shirt came in and asked about his ‘30 Natural Light’ or something,” recounted Elmira Banks, one of McKeldin Library’s front desk staffers, seeming bewildered. “I told him no, we have electric lighting, and he got angry so I went to my boss.”

David Allen, the director of DOTS, was at the time filling in as staff manager for McKeldin. He heard the words natural light, and reportedly began screaming.

“HE WANTS TO RIP OPEN THE WALLS AND CEILING, IT’S A BOMB!” he was heard to shout over the radio to the University of Maryland Police Department’s officer stationed in the library at the time.

The officer listened raptly, and calmly reassured Mr. Allen.  “No no no,” he said. “Natural Light is beer. The students drink it at.. parties…”

Students approaching dangerous levels of sobriety. (Photo by Christian Jenkins/ The Diamondback)

Students approaching dangerous levels of sobriety. (Photo by Christian Jenkins/ The Diamondback)

He sputtered. “OH GOD I NEED BACKUP,” he roared into his radio. “GET EVERYONE DOWN HERE NOW!”

Within five minutes, every emergency vehicle in Prince George’s County was outside McKeldin Library.  Though the library was evacuated, no message was issued through UMD Alerts, leading to some student dissatisfaction.

“We had a moral obligation to prevent students from approaching unopened alcoholic beverages” said an officer on site. “Staying calm is not as important as staying sober.”

K-9 units (bomb-sniffing dogs), which had been in training for some few weeks before the incident, were on scene with the UMPD.  Unfortunately they had practiced hunting down beers so often, always finishing by chewing them open and consuming their contents, they were still inebriated, and were mostly useless.  Yet they didn’t prove necessary.

This dog was shattered. (Photo by Charlie DeBoyace/The Diamondback)

This dog was shattered. (Photo by Charlie DeBoyace/The Diamondback)

After the evacuation and four-hour search, the school had lost some $10,000 of misplaced or stolen equipment, an estimated $1,000 spent on emergency services, and students had forgone a night of studying for finals.

From their search of McKeldin Library the police uncovered and confiscated 797 Natural Light beers, 36 bottles of varying hard liquors, 25 different bags, containers, joints, blunts or spliffs of marijuana, four strippers, two bottles of absinthe, and an injection-ready horse tranquilizer.

The original unknown suspect is still at large, though students are advised to keep their eyes out for a “white male aged 18-22, who likes Natural Light beer.”

Later reached over the phone for comment, an unspecified officer at the UMPD station said “EEEEEEGHHHHEWAAAAHAAAAGHFHGOTERPSUFHGHFUGHFOHA.”

You deserve it, boys.

Thanks to those who keep us safe. To reach the losers who always make fun of them, email thirstyturtletimes@gmail.com

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Rebecca Martinson for SGA President

Write in "Rebecca Martinson" for SGA President, now through April 24th at testudo.umd.edu

Write in “Rebecca Martinson” for SGA President, now through April 24th at www.testudo.umd.edu.

If you just opened this link expecting it to be a fun parody with a healthy agenda, tape that goddamn smile in place because this endorsement is going to be a rough fucking ride.

For those of you still dizzy from tornadoes, which apparently is the majority of this loser school, the SGA has been FUCKING UP in terms of FUCKING EVERYTHING.  And the only person LITERALLY capable of punting them into line is the smart, talented, electric and uncompromising Rebecca Martinson.

If you’re reading this right now and saying to yourself, “But oh em gee random satirical newsite I’m reading for the second time ever, I don’t really care about SGA losers LOL!” then headbutt the sidewalk until you forget everything you thought was important to you so we don’t have to do it to you ourselves.

We don’t give a flying fuck, nor do your friends give a flying fuck, what stupid fucking Buzzfeed article you were planning to read instead of voting.  You have 362 days out of the fucking year to read “The 6 Most Glorious Lip Syncs On ‘RuPaul’s Drag Race’ Ever,” and this week is NOT, I fucking repeat NOT ONE OF THEM!

Only the current SGA are losers. This week is about voting for a new one; replacing a lying crybaby hippie or that dude who thinks everyone deserves fucking nanny counseling with a girl who keeps it realer than breastfeeding in public and that’s not fucking possible if you fucking lollygag around masturbating to pictures of every animal in the Amazon Rainforest while this bitch Zwerling fucking spews out bullshit about “rape culture.”

Newsflash you stupid cocks: CHANGING RAPE CULTURE ISN’T THE SGA’S FUCKING JOB.  Oh wait, DOUBLE FUCKING NEWSFLASH: NOBODY IS GOING TO CHOOSE THEIR SGA PRESIDENT BECAUSE THEY HATE RAPE MORE, which in case you’re as dumb as Zwerling and need it spelled out for you NOBODY FUCKING SUPPORTS RAPE.  This also applies to you little shits who think Noah Robinson is a suitable alternative to Zwerling OVER REBECCA MARTINSON.

Are you people fucking retarded? That’s not a rhetorical question, WE LITERALLY want you to email us telling us if you’re mentally slow so we can lock you outside during the next tornado.

If Sam Zwerling openly said “DOTS is functioning well. The ticket prices are totally justifiable, parking is reasonable and affordable and nothing needs to be done to reform DOTS,” would you be happy? WOULD YOU?

NO YOU WOULDN’T, SO WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU EVER VOTE FOR HER WHEN SHE WON’T FUCKING DO ANYTHING ABOUT DOTS?

First of all, you SHOULDN’T be ok with DOTS, Dining Services, or your tuition.  We don’t give a FUCK if you’re a Republican, Democrat, or you’re sucking David Allen’s dick in the alley behind Jimmy John’s.  YOU CAN’T BE OK WITH WITH DOTS. SO. GO. VOTE.  And ESPECIALLY vote for Rebecca Fucking Martinson!

“But random satirical newsite I’m reading for the second time ever!” you say in a whiny little bitch voice to your computer screen as you read this endorsement, “The SGA sucks! It has no power and tuition is going to go up anyway, besides I follow real politics and voted for Obama LOL! Isn’t that what matters?”

NO YOU STUPID FUCKING ANUS BRUSHES, IT FUCKING DOESN’T.  DO YOU WANNA KNOW FUCKING WHY?  IT DOESN’T MATTER BECAUSE LOCALLY YOU AND YOUR PARENTS HAVE BEEN VOTING FOR THE SAME RICH OLD WHITE DUDES WHO BULLY OUR BITCHASS PRESIDENTS.

Politics are 90% local. And we’ve learned not only are past presidents, including Zwerling, being fucking WEIRD in Annapolis (for example, telling rich assholes sob stories about poor people and saying stuff like, “please?” won’t fucking work), but also they are actually sucking up to a governor who’s raising our tuition.

Praising. Fucking. O’Malley.  ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID? The President shouldn’t give a SHIT about anything O’Malley does outside public education funding, BECAUSE THAT’S NOT THE PRESIDENT’S FUCKING JOB TO WORRY ABOUT, HAVE YOU EVER FUCKING LOBBIED FOR ANYTHING BEFORE? ARE YOU FUCKING NEVILLE CHAMBERLAIN? Or are you just so fucking dense about lobbying (the president’s fucking job) that you think being a good Democrat will make the students happy?

Artist's conception of Rebecca Martinson in Annapolis.

Artist’s conception of Rebecca Martinson in Annapolis.

Well it’s time someone told you, NO ONE FUCKING CARES, ESPECIALLY PEOPLE STILL PAYING STUDENT LOANS INSTEAD OF THEIR KID’S FUCKING DAYCARE.

Rebecca Martinson will fucking cuntpunt every politician in Annapolis, including O’Malley, and she doesn’t give a SHIT what Wallace Loh does, SHE’LL FUCKING CUNTPUNT HIM TOO.

“Ohhh random satirical newsite I’m reading for the second time ever, I’m now crying because your endorsement has made me oh so sad.” Well good.  If this editorial applies to you in any way, meaning if you are a little self-important asswipe that can’t take five minutes to vote or fucking moron who defends voting for the only fucking name they recognize, this message is for you:

GO VOTE FOR REBECCA MARTINSON.

We’re not fucking kidding.  Vote for her.  Seriously, if you can’t write it in, or have some weird disease and can’t spend five minutes on Testudo to vote, then write her fucking name on a piece of paper and tape it to Wallace Loh’s office door.  Because Zwerling is HORRIBLE, we repeat, HORRIBLE PR FOR MARYLAND.

This editorial board would rather have a slightly mean-spirited possible racist, if she is electric, knows how to bully fake people (politicians), possesses an iron fist that will insert itself into some Blue Devil faces, a girl who may have a violent tongue, but at least spits some fucking truth with it, rather than fucking awkward bitches who cow-tow to politicians large and small.

If you are one of the people who has tweeted “Oh nooo boo hoo I won’t vote for SGA because they’re all losers and liars LOL,” then we pity you, because you’ll undoubtedly fall for the first sap who appeals to the dumbest pleasure receptors in your ugly fucking skull, rather than the bold-hearted lioness this campus needs.  And with that in mind don’t even bother voting if you’re gonna choose a fucking frizz-headed GDI loser, instead just march down to Ratsie’s and dump your fucking head in the frialator and stop being a fucking obstacle to Terrapin progress.

Seriously, on Testudo’s bronze fucking sack if UMD reelects that fucking boner, we’re packing up and moving to wherever the hell Rebecca transfers to, even if she doesn’t plan on fucking dominating every dick, pussy and asshole that tries to come across her (pun intended).  We’re not fucking kidding. Don’t test her.

Vote Martinson, and go fuck yourself. #CuntPunt2013

This endorsement reflects the opinons of the Thirsty Turtle Times Editorial Board. For comments or complaints which we won’t care about, please email thirstyturtletimes@gmail.com

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University of Iowa Basketball Player Arrested For Trying to Harvest the Chrysler Building

chrysler building

Studley mistook the Chrysler Building for an ear of corn.

The University of Iowa’s loss in the National Invitation Tournament has been blamed on the absence of stellar senior Whitman Studley, who missed the game while attempting to shuck the Chrysler Building.  Studley apparently mistook the iconic piece of the New York City skyline for a large ear of corn.

This past Thursday, Baylor University’s Men’s basketball team was crowned champions of the NIT in New York City’s Madison Square Garden, defeating the University of Iowa 74-54.  Studley, Iowa’s top scorer and rebounder, missed the entire game.

The prolific power forward was found on the 29th floor of the Chrysler Building while the game was still in progress.  Studley was attempting to shuck third tallest building in New York City because he apparently thought it was a massive ear of corn.

“The corn shortage brought on a good hard fay-mine.  Daddy said our struggles were cuza those fy-nan-seers in New York City,” said Studley, speaking outside New York City Criminal Court on Monday morning, ignoring his court-assigned lawyer’s advice that he stop talking.

“So logicallism sujest they turned hundereds of corns into one big un and put it right der!  THEY TOOK ER CORN!” he continued.

“Whos diss booknerd who wont stop boderin me?” Studley added as his lawyer fell over trying to push him off the court steps.

Hawkeye fans in Iowa City supporting Studley during his arraignment:

Minutes after scaling, evaluating, and finally taking a shucking knife to the building, Studley was arrested by FBI agents.  This comes just two weeks after dozens of University of Maryland students were arrested for rioting in New York in the wake of UMD’s Atlantic Coast Conference Tournament upset of Duke University.

peter king on islam

Rep. Peter King (R, NY) declaring “government cash” and “muslim students” should be mutually exclusive options for public universities.

“It is clear that Islamo-socialism is reborn in America” said congressman Peter King (R, NY) on ABC News last night.  “And these public universities are the hotbeds.”

The CIA has reportedly taken University of Maryland President Wallace Loh into questioning, owing to his affiliations with both UMD and the University of Iowa, where he used to be provost.  Sources from inside the CIA (and we have loads of them) suggest Loh has been identified as the center of a massive international conspiracy.  We’ll have more on that soon.

“At least dey gonna be corn dis year!” said Studley later on Monday, driving a wobbly Hawkeye team RV out of the Staten Island Hurricane Sandy Relief Shelter.

To be continued…

Terrapin Fans Riot Across the Country Following Spring Break Upset of Duke

EAST COAST, USA: University of Maryland Men’s Basketball fans rioted around the country last week when, in the quarterfinals of the 2013 ACC Championship Tournament, the seventh-seeded Terps defeated second-seeded Duke University 83-74.

Rioting damage in Columbia, Maryland

Rioting damage in Columbia, Maryland

Generally, such a magnanimous upset results in some kind of commotion on the home front; the last two victories against Duke, in March 2010 and February 2013, led to celebratory rioting in College Park.  But Terps fans were away for Spring Break last weekend, and took to the streets of their hometowns or vacation destinations instead.

The University of Maryland, of course, draws most of its pupils from the small cities and suburbs of the homeland.  Two Terrapin fans in Columbia, Maryland, Trey and Tyler, who did not wish to disclose their full name for fear of repercussions, successfully bent a stop sign

“That thing isn’t even up straight anymore!” yelled Trey, referring to the sign. “Yeah,” added Tyler. “It looks like Mason Plumlee going for a rebound.”

Students in New Jersey took to the streets of their various hometowns, flooding market squares and pouring out of bars and clubs.  Fights broke out across the state, from Teaneck to Cherry Hill, allegedly begun as a result of the game.

“Interesting that they chose college basketball as their excuse this time,” said Lieutenant Peter Costello of the New Jersey State Police. “They must have really cared about that game.”

In Baltimore, several Maryland students attempted to riot in the North Avenue/Belair Road part of town. Of the school’s Baltimore residents who returned to College Park, the few who have been seen in public have often been moving frantically, carrying schoolbooks, always in tears.  All who were asked have refused to comment on what happened.

A sizeable chunk of Maryland students spent their hard-earned savings on a trip to Panama City, Florida.  They watched the game, celebrated outside all night, had an awesome time and you hate them.

In New York, Maryland students crowded into several designated bars across The Bronx, Manhattan, and Brooklyn, and all successfully congregated at The Charging Bull following the game.  Their tweets, Facebook posts, and other social media boasts of their plans were intercepted by the CIA.

Peter King (R, NY), responds to Maryland students' attempts to riot in New York City

Peter King (R, NY), responds to Maryland students’ attempts to riot in New York City

Special ops were on scene in minutes.  Several students were killed by unmanned drones.  Several more were captured, and have reportedly been sent to the federal detention center in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.  Rep. Peter King (R, NY), and Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand (D, NY) sparred on CNN as to the legality of the killings and incarcerations.

“These kids should have been given a fair tri – uhhh, I think President Obama is a trustworthy man. This must be a Republican’s fault,” said Sen. Gillibrand, blinking every syllable.

“Don’t believe the Ayatollah’s lies. We will not negotiate with terrorists! Hats off to the entire ladder of law enforcement here, from the ground guys right to the top man not appointed by the president,” said Rep. King without blinking.

Meanwhile in Boston, UMD students were buried under another snowstorm.  It was the only city where a bonfire was considered the cool way to celebrate.

Pelican in oil

TTT’s New Orleans Correspondent

Meanwhile, in New Orleans, many vacationing Maryland fans were out on the streets following the game, but it’s unclear what they were celebrating.  Information is of course hazy, as the Thirsty Turtle Times correspondent on sight reports he was “blacked out like a pelican in the Gulf of Mexico.” Reportedly, however, New Orleans was the only celebration where the common “Show your tits!” chant actually found any success.

University of Maryland students also took to the seas, as many joined a discount Carnivale Cruiseline ship from Tampa, Florida, through the Caribbean and back. None of those students saw or followed the game, however, as the ship’s power went out and it was out of range of any cellular service.  The students rioted anyway, as soon as the ship ran out of toilet paper and buckets.

And despite all the celebrations, despite Maryland’s ensuing loss to North Carolina in the ACC semifinals, there’s still plenty of energy left in Terpnation.

“We’re going crazy if they win the NIT,” added Trey from Columbia.  “Like, I’m talking pulling out my mom’s flowers crazy.”

Ethan Diamond and Mother Nature contributed to this report. They can be reached at thirstyturtletimes@gmail.com

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Aux Armes! – An NRA Response to President Loh’s Assault on the Second Amendment

Editor’s note: In light of College Park’s recent murder-suicide tragedy, the gun control debate has come to the University of Maryland. UMD President Wallace Loh penned a column in the Diamondback calling for passage of Governor Martin O’Malley’s recent gun control proposals. In response, the National Rifle Association has reached out to the Thirsty Turtle Times, which has never denied any English-written column in its proud history (or any language, for that matter).

Presenting the NRA’s (presumed) response to Dr. Loh, and their stance on gun ‘control’ in College Park:

Hello, and thank you for taking the time to read the official NRA response to University of Maryland President Wallace Loh’s propagandic column in last Wednesday’s Diamondback.

Dr. Loh should really be ashamed of himself for his column, in which he voiced support for Governor O’Malley’s gun-control proposals.  In fact he should probably resign and self-deport.  The President of a leading public research institution has no right having opinions regarding the safety and health of his community.

Dr. Loh should be ashamed of himself for his column, in which he voiced support for Governor O’Malley’s gun-control proposals. In fact he should probably resign and self-deport. The President of a leading public research institution has no right having opinions regarding the safety and health of his community.

What happened last week was a terrible tragedy: perhaps suffering from some kind of mental illness, a deranged person, using the mightiest weapon he possessed, tore apart our glorious Constitution. This person also happens to be President of the University of Maryland. Shame on the Diamondback for permitting such offensive bile, and Dr. Loh, shame on you for writing it! And this all comes after an earlier tragedy of a murder-suicide the week before. As if a community torn asunder by violence needs the further strife of you proposing solutions to prevent such a reoccurrence – so soon.

But Dr. Loh, the madness stops here. All of this clamoring to oppress our second amendment rights must stop.

The new assaults on our freedom proposed by Governor Martin O’Malley, which you support, are laughable. Examining the recent tragedy in College Park, some say the fact this killer was diagnosed with a mental illness means he should have been subjected to a background check, and subsequently should not have legally been allowed to purchase a gun. But, Dr. Loh, answer this: why should our constitutional rights suffer for society’s inadequacies?

Regarding shooter Dayvon Maurice Green, where were the mental health services? We, the pro-gun lobby/only objective observers say Maryland’s mental health facilities are to blame. This man had a mental illness, and no one bothered to cure it. It’s almost as if your school’s mental health program isn’t already run by the top students in the country.

No, Dr. Loh, guns are not the problem! They are the solution. Violence is a terrible problem in College Park.  Just last week, students responded to a sporting victory with a terrible riot. An entire light pole was downed. Imagine how much safer that riot could have been if every single student was legally armed that night.

All of this damage could have been averted if every student was legally armed during the post Duke-upset riots.

All of this damage could have been averted if every student was legally armed during last week’s post Duke-upset riots.

Seniors and juniors at the University of Maryland may well remember the incident that led to the closing of this publication’s namesake, the Thirsty Turtle bar, in November 2010. Three men were stabbed by a fourth, after the continuation of an altercation that had begun in the bar.  Wallace Loh, just a few days into your term, violence plagued your city.  Perhaps your war on guns wasn’t such a good idea.

Now, if those three victims had guns, they wouldn’t have been stabbed, plain and simple. And perhaps, if the perpetrator had been armed, the three victims wouldn’t have originally attempted to gang up on him in the first place. Don’t worry if that doesn’t make sense. It’s a mess, plainly one only guns could have cleaned up, but Dr. Loh, you just seem to have it out for our rights!

Why, Dr. Loh, are firearms singled out when knives are clearly a more common weapon? In the wake of this incident, why weren’t people talking about banning knives? And don’t say it’s because nobody died – that argument has been done to death. Violence is bad no matter what and the only way to stop it is with more guns.

A much more realistic solution to the violence in College Park nightlife is to arm the bouncers. R.J. Bentley’s bouncer Marcus Plummer wouldn’t have had to assault an air force veteran and ruin his own career if he was armed from the start. Surely, the impossibly drunk victim would have cowered and walked away after being ejected from the bar by an armed Plummer. Wallace Loh, with a doctorate in psychology, the expert on alcohol consumption, even you could acknowledge this.

Armed bouncers, however, are not enough. The campus must be secured.

Arm Hyattsville, save College Park!

Arm Hyattsville, save College Park!

We need armed guards outside every building in College Park. And to those nay-sayers who say we don’t have the manpower, what about Maryland’s 6.6% unemployment rate? There are loads of people doing absolutely nothing in Hyattsville. Let’s give them guns and station them throughout College Park on Saturday nights. That’ll keep us safe.

But in the end, nothing is perfect. Demons will always slip through the cracks, and tragedy will return to College Park. Now and then, innocents will die; it’s the cost of freedom. As Thomas Jefferson once said, “The Tree of Liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.” It doesn’t matter if he was referring to something completely different. It suits our argument to use his quote out of context; just like it suits gun owners to use their assault rifles out of context when they use them to go hunting. Checkmate.

The point is, Dr. Loh, do not let the occasional misfortune drag you into irrational behavior. Death is tragic, but there is greater tragedy: Spending a half-hour studying the Second Amendment and the proposed laws to realize our rights aren’t actually being infringed. AUX ARMES!

The National Rifle Association is the primary lobby of the firearms industry in the United States. They can be reached in the seventh layer of Hell, or at thirstyturtletimes@gmail.com

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UMD Ravens Fans Can’t Decide Between Successful Futures, Violent Rioting

COLLEGE PARK – Sunday night was a night torn for many University of Maryland Ravens fans. They were conflicted, simply unable to decide between inducing mayhem to celebrate their team’s Super Bowl victory, or having a clean record and a chance for a successful future.

Ravens undecided“Hardest decision of my life!” vented Ravens fanatic Zach Bolstine, a UMD senior finance major. “I mean, I just got a job with Capital One Bank starting in July, but I don’t know if I can live with myself if I don’t put a trash can through their window right now.”

The Baltimore Ravens defeated the San Francisco 49ers in a thrilling 34-31 Super Bowl on Sunday. The University of Maryland’s large Ravens fanbase celebrated rather peacefully on Sunday, avoiding destruction and chaos. Students this year were unable, or unwilling, to block Route One for more than a couple traffic lights, and for some, it was a burden too great to bear.

“Just terrible” ranted Bolstine. “Where’s the blood? Where’s the beatdown on CNN?”

Students struggled with their conflicting feelings, weighing immeasurable chaos against their hopes and dreams.  Some envied the disorder of the riots of March 4th, 2010, when Maryland men’s basketball upset then 4th-ranked Duke.

“Everyone was a fan of the basketball team,” said Bolstine. “most of UMD isn’t Ravens fans, so the responsibility for anarchy falls on fewer of us.”

Nothing remotely this awesome happened in College Park

Nothing remotely this awesome happened in College Park

Students also remember two years ago, when US Navy Seals took out Osama Bin Laden on May 1st, 2011. The ensuing celebration in College Park was considered very orderly, as there was only one arrest and students largely complied with police shepherding.

“At least we harmed society though,” said Bemma Maha, a recent UMD graduate who watched the Super Bowl with his fellow Ravens fans at Cornerstone Grill and Loft, of the Bin Laden death celebrations. “We blocked Route One for hours, think about how much economic activity that disrupted!”

Maha recently was hired for his dream job as a fashion promoter in New York City, but said he was hoping to get arrested assaulting a police officer on Route One.

“I won’t do it if it won’t ignite greater bedlam” he spat bitterly, after observation the sparse, peaceful crowd. There were no disturbances, no violence, and no arrests.

Ravens fans became increasingly conflicted upon hearing word that students at Towson University in Towson, Maryland were rioting without restraint.

“It’s not fair,” complained Bolstine. “Those kids from Towson never had futures to lose in the first place.”

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Psychotic Ray Lewis contributed to this report. He can be reached at thirstyturtletimes@gmail.com

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Something Strange is Happening with the UMPD

Ok, something is amiss here.

Last year, the State of Maryland gave the University of Maryland Police Department a $30,000 grant, with the publicized intent of using that money to combat underage drinking.

The UMPD then did something nobody expected – they RETURNED THE MONEY. Most of it, anyway.

Marc Limansky, the UMPD spokesman, had this to say on the matter: “We’ll manage; we’ve been able to manage for years.” Right.

The state then followed this up with their own case of unscrupulous generosity with taxpayer dollars, and GAVE THE UMPD ANOTHER THIRTY THOUSAND DOLLARS.

What is happening here? Who returns a surplus? Did the police just throw reality in the state’s face?  Did the little guy just bring a small-town-honesty meteor crashing down on O’Malley’s big politik parade?

(this video is actually two minutes):

The newest $30,000 grant has instead been chalked up to technology upgrades, which the department has said they could not have afforded on their own. It begs the question – why did they return the money they had the year before? Are they perhaps more honest and virtuous than the slimy, libelous Thirsty Turtle Times has alleged?

Or have they finally overheard the grumblings of the student body, that resources are being wasted?

Seriously, they might have. They may even be working against the grain.

University of Maryland Memes, February 2012

University of Maryland Memes, February 2012

Don’t be fooled by the tweaks in state regulations – which now assert a criminal citation can be written for minor crimes like trespassing, disturbing the peace, or marijuana possession, in place of an actual arrest.  These are passed off as “beneficial to everyone” since students can avoid incarceration. But anyone who’s been through the legal system knows it’s not the arrest that hurts, it’s the extra ink on your background check.

These crimes are no less illegal, and no less punishable. The penalties for these criminal offenses are now actually easier to administer. A police officer who doesn’t have to take you to jail and book you after compromising your future can just move on to the next one, and bust dozens of kids in a given night instead of two or three.

Does that mean he will? We don’t know. Because while the state appears deadset to continue the oppression of students, the police are showing signs of evolution.

They are actually focusing their efforts on fighting real crime, pursuing necessary technologies to make the campus safer, and returning surpluses when the only other option is wasting it on an unjust cause.

Whether they acknowledge that the cause of oppressing student rights is unjust, or just believe it to be fruitless, remains to be seen.

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