You thought it was all over. You thought I was done? Well bitch…you thought wrong. When I entered my first buzzsaw pitch meeting, I saw it as my personal Hunger Games arena, and little did anyone know that at that time, I was a Career. I came there ready to eat, devour, and tear. I was only biding my time. I was ready to turn 19 in Poland and reheat all the nachos in the continental United States. You all underestimated me, but even less did you know I had a master plan that stretched years in advance.
First, I pretended to be an innocent freshman. Wrong. I am twenty-seven years old. In high school, I was a super super super super super senior, through which I honed my skills in AP Language and Composition to the highest degree. For my first four years, I gaslit all my teachers and the administration to believe I was a completely different student, Phillip Feldman, whose bones are still within the drywall of my childhood bedroom. He didn’t kick or scream. When I offered him that Rice Krispie treat laced with cyanide, he simply smiled. I then returned with a new haircut and lewk, prepared to retake every class and gain a near-perfect GPA–which I did with aplomb. I then gained access to a new echelon of liberal arts education, ready to perpetrate my scheme on an unsuspecting student publication.
When I arrived at Ithaca College, I knew I had to do something to leave an indelible mark on the culture. To plant my spindly, bony hands in the wet concrete of history. Buzzsaw was my way to do it. First, I endeared myself to Sarah Borsari, the previous editor of the Sawdust section, by auditioning for IC Standup club. I lied and said it was my first time, but I was a frequent attendee of open mics in my small hometown. No one could doubt my comedic prowess, I simply had to hide it for the sake of my dramatis personae.
I ingratiated myself into the Ithaca College comedy community. I had Sarah Borsari wrapped around my finger. My childlike whimsy was merely a facade she fell for, as she left the poor, defenseless Sawdust section in my evil clutches. Oh, how I hated that woman. Her laughter, her smiles, her genuine passion for satire, her zuah-duh-veev (spelling?). To be so unironically interested in the pathos of musical theatre? Pathetic. And what’s worse, she reads. Does anyone even read anymore? I dictate my articles to a seven-year-old prodigy to whom I pay in Wild Berry Skittles Gummies. I haven’t looked at print media since I was nineteen, almost a decade ago.
And what’s worse, Sarah likes people. I haven’t liked a person since I made an AI chatbot of myself, but with the voice of Babygirl star Nicole Kidman. All of these things made me detest Sarah. So much to the point where I had to move in with her for the summer and study her in her natural habitat. Even after she had left her beloved section to me (ha), I had to know what sick machinations went on in her mind.
There, I began what I like to call the Connor Stanford Prison Experiment. A series of subtle psychological torments that made Sarah Borsari go insane, or at least more insane than she already was. I steamed her dehydrated cranberries to rehydrate them, making them slightly off-texture. I unraveled single threads in sweater sleeves to make them annoying to pull off. I lobbied every streaming service to ensure the 2008 movie musical Mamma Mia was only available for rental or purchase. I went to every vending machine within a six-mile radius and tampered with the electronics to render them unable to read anything but two-dollar bills. Those last two weren’t necessarily only targeted at Sarah, but it would still inconvenience her, so I think it counts.
When Sarah decided to include not one, not two, but three Buzzsaw Asks Whys in the 2021 issue of Sugar and Spice, I was aghast. Such flagrant disrespect of the format of Buzzsaw, of the section she committed herself to. Two more additional articles, all but dedicated to her vanity. In that third article, she wrote, “The editors of Buzzsaw each spend months preparing for the ‘Buzzlympics,’ where we compete to see who gets to write the ‘Asks Why’ section.” Why would you go about spreading such lies, Sarah? This is not a meritocracy, this is your twisted little Saw trap. You write the Asks Whys, Sarah! Lying to the populace? I thought you were above that. Sarah–not Buzzsaw–asks, “Am I really so self-centered that I think people want to read my nonsense three times over? Maybe.” The correct answer is yes, Sarah. But you underestimated me. I am self-centered enough to think that people want to read my nonsense FOUR times over. Checkmate, bitch.
Your editor who has finally completed a long con,
Connor
Connor Stanford is a senior theatre studies major who, it turns out, was evil all along. You can reach Connor at [email protected].