Story by Hannah Kaufman
When people hear about a new publication or media site, they often think of something fresh. Something current and inspired. Like the NYT mini games: hip, cool and confusing for anyone over the age of 53.
The Onyen is different. First off, we love people over the age of 53. Secondly, although we did technically launch last week, we were not conceived recently. In fact, the founding of the Onyen dates back to three centuries ago.
You might be thinking: how is this possible? Well, allow me to take you on a tour through our history, but without the false enthusiasm of UNC tour guides or the monotonous drone of history majors (history may repeat itself, but not as much as you guys do.)
Far before the age of the real Onion’s quaint satire beginnings in Wisconsin in 1988, far before UNC rolled out the Only Name You Ever Need (ONYEN) system in 2015 and far before my kitchen started smelling rancid due to a certain rotting vegetable last week, the Onyen was invented by a 36-year-old man with sideburns.
The man’s name was Rame Ses, and he was the town genius of newly-founded Chapel Hill back in 1784. He had finally done what locals had told him was impossible—created a working time machine—but he wasn’t satisfied. It wasn’t the science that puzzled him: that was the easy part, for ol’ Rame had spent enough time tinkering in his uncle Al’s garage to know a tire from a machine that travels through time and space.
The problem was what he would do with it. He wanted to create something revolutionary, something that would glide so effortlessly into its future era that people would wonder at its timely nature.
And the other thing about Rame is that he loved satire.
Back then, the only comedic publication on the streets was called “Ye Olde Satire,” and it was run by Rame’s mortal enemy, Blu Edevil. Every joke that it published included the word “wench.”
Rame decided he could do better, and with the time machine finally complete, he got to work on the publication that he would plant three centuries into the future: the Onyen.
It was no easy task setting the stage for the best double entendre name known to man. First, he used the time machine to travel to 1988 Wisconsin and wrote down the initial plans for the Onion in founder Tim Keck’s personal diary. (After reading the diary, he also did Keck a favor and sent his girlfriend a break-up letter).
Then he shot forward a few years and anonymously joined a UNC executive zoom call in 2015 where he announced his idea for the Only Name You Ever Need student identification system. The UNC executives booted him from the call, assuming he was a hacker, but—in classic rich white man fashion—they still stole his idea and called it their own.
And so the world was ready for the Onyen’s introduction. But now Rame needed the last piece of the puzzle: someone to start it.
He was looking for a group of three founders, each with a certain desirable characteristic: one pro, one bro and one … well, let’s just call her a wench. He felt this combination was the only way to introduce a satirical publication that would last.
So imagine his surprise when he came across none other than Bryan Tucker, a UNC alum and senior writer for SNL, sitting on his couch in his Chapel Hill home googling “ways to get involved with comedy in NC.” (In addition to a time machine, Rame also had access to extensive private server information. Picture an 18th century Jeff Bezos).
With his pro locked in, Rame was quickly able to round up Pratyush Seshadri, a bro with an affinity for stand up, and Hannah Kaufman, a humorous hoe- err, witty wench- uh, skan* with a smile.
(The man is from 1784, I think you can forgive him if his language isn’t up to date. He’s still more politically correct than your frat boyfriend).
And so there it was. The perfect team of three for the perfect satire publication. In the year of our lord, January 12, 2024, the Onyen launched, getting a whopping 67 likes on its first Instagram reel. Rame’s dream had finally come true.
But all that time travel had taken a toll. Rame was now 275 years old (told you we love people over the age of 53). It was time for him to leave this world, trusting that UNC students would carry on his satire legacy for years to come.
As he laid down to rest for good, it’s rumored that his last words were “f*ck wenches, get money.
And by Jove, please read the Onyen.”
