01 - cover.indd
Transcription
01 - cover.indd
Page 2 EDITORIAL GOLDEN WORDS Volume 39, Issue 24 by Jon Some Things Change... I can’t believe how much my life has changed since I became an editor for Golden Words. For example, people used to say, “Jon’s just a normal guy; he puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like the rest of us.” Now, I make a habit of two-leggedly jumping into my pants to reflect the change in my lifestyle that editorship represents. I’ve even managed to make a few political enemies since assuming the reins here. The staff at the Journal kidnapped my goldfish, and they’re not giving him back. I mean, I think it was the Journal staff, but I’m not 100% sure. My only evidence is the fact that the ransom note was sixteen pages longer than it needed to be, and had a crossword where every answer was “dog”. I don’t care who did it, though: I just want my fish back. Benson, if you can read this, I haven’t given up on you. I’ll never give up on you. Swim strong, buddy. Swim strong! I don’t want to name names, but a certain administrator at our fair university may or may not have offered me a lucrative construction contract to lay off the “Our Principal is a Crook” jokes. It’s funny: I’ve never built anything more complicated than a model airplane, but I’m apparently qualified enough to be bribed into building a three hundred million dollar student centre. Go figure. I’m ge�ing a lot more respect in my classes now, too. Instead of the customary namecalling, my professors have started referring to me as editor jerkhole. The joke is on you, Dr. Jenkins: I’m not planning on showering before our next seminar together, and I might run a few laps beforehand just for good measure. Some things in my life have stayed pre�y consistent, though. Lindsay Lohan, as usual, is not returning my phone calls. Conversely, Loverboy won’t stop calling. I tell you, you download a single mp3 of “Working for the Weekend” and the record industry won’t leave you alone until the day you die. I’ve just realized that there is actually no point to this editorial. Plus, Les informs me that I’m not allowed to make a joke about “Empire of the Sun”, even though it was one of the best movies of 1987. In summary: some things change, some things stay the same, and my coeditor wouldn’t know funny if it slapped him upside the head with a 7-iron. That reminds me: I have to go get my 7-iron sharpened. Enjoy the paper! by Les Boy, I Need A Haircut Let It Keep Growing Now, it may seem like this solution isn’t really a solution, but it’s probably the one I’ll go with. For one, it is the cheapest and the easiest. All I have to pay for is extra shampoo and some hair elastics. They say hair is made of the same material as finger nails, and I know my fingernails chip off when they get too long; maybe my hair will do the same. Is that why so many former hippies are bald these days? Long hair seems to be popular among the hip crowd, so my laziness may be a boon for my popularity. This assumes that people don’t mistake me for a girl. Volume XXXIX Issue XXIV March 30th, 2005 Golden Words, Clark Hall Queen’s University, Kingston, ON, K7L 3N6 tel: 533-3051 fax: 533-6678 e-mail:[email protected] www.goldenwords.net Come be a part of Golden Words! If you can read this paragraph, you’re good enough for us. All party people are welcome, regardless of year, faculty, or discipline. You can join us for Press Nite(tm), which is held (almost) every Sunday during the Fall and Winter terms in the EngSoc Lounge (pretend you’re going to Clark Hall Pub, only hang a right.) We kick start the crazy antics at noon and keep on truckin’ until the paper is done (i.e. the wee hours of Monday morning). Feel free to join in any time and hit us up with some of that world-class humour of yours that we’ve been hearing so much about. And since you’re being such a good sport, we’ll keep your cage clean with freshly laid out newspaper, gently comb your fur from time to time, and give you all the food pellets and water you can eat! Those food pellets are pretty decent, so this is a mighty sweet deal. Alternatively, you can submit articles by e-mailing them to [email protected] any old time you like. Golden Words is published at least 24 times a year by the Queen’s Engineering Society Queen’s University, Kingston, Ontario, Canada (9000 copies distributed free on campus) Proudly printed in Canada by Performance Printing 65 Lorne St, Smith Falls, Ontario, K7A 4T1. Contents copyright © 2005 Golden Words The opinions expressed herein are not necessarily those of the Queen’s Engineering Society nor of its members. Unless otherwise stated, all submitted material is the property of Golden Words and is reviewed by the editors in accordance with the 20042005 editorial policy, which is available on request. The editors reserve the right to make final editing decisions. Any complaints or issues regarding the content of this paper should be forwarded to the chair of the Golden Words Editorial Review Board. All issues will be dealt with within one week. If the complainant, the editors or the chair are not content with the proposed solution, a meeting of the Golden Words Editorial Review Board will be convened. Please contact Rizwan Jiwan at riz@goldenwords. net or (613) 533-3051 to lodge a complaint or comment. Golden Words is not intended for persons under the age of 18. EDITORIAL I could really use a haircut. The last time it was cut was late on Christmas Eve. No, Santa didn’t cut my hair, my Mom did. That was a few months ago, and you can imagine that it has grown a lot. I wouldn’t say I look like a “hippie long-hair,” but my hair is ge�ing a bit shaggy. I have had some trouble hearing lately because my side burns get in the way. When I put on earphones, all I can hear is hair (and I’m not talking about the musical). It’s time to do something; here are a couple of my ideas. Sola Veritas est qui Facit ut me in Merda Shave It Off This is by far the most extreme solution, but it is not out of the realm of possibility. Shaving my head is almost as cheap as le�ing it grow. All I need is some tin foil and a microwave. I have done it before and my eyebrows grow back pre�y quickly. A bald head is very aerodynamic, decreasing my drag coefficient by 35 percent and increasing my sex appeal coefficient by –35 percent. Go to Olympic Barbers Hmm, so cheap it might be worth looking like a freak for two weeks? These are just three of the many things I can do to my head. Why don’t you tell me how I should coif my coif? Steer your web browser of choice to www.goldenwords. net and participate in the online poll. Whatever you decide, at least my hair will look respectable, unlike the circus clown mop my co-editor wears. The staff of Golden Words would like to extend our deepest condolences to the family and friends of Justin Schwieg. Our thoughts and prayers are with you in this time of sorrow. Editors Leslie Bennett Jon Thompson Wednesday 9:30-11:30 Tuesday 1:00-2:00 Operations Manager Jake Bricknell Office Hours By Appointment Business Manager Don MacCannell Office Hours By Appointment Editorial Staff Copy Editors Layout Editors Graphics Editor Ass. Graphics Editor Staff Writers Production Assistant Sarah Chan Erin Weinberg Michelle Redwood Kasia Kmiec Alex Lau Jessica Jerez Kiran Helferty Imran Zaidi Jason Law Production Staff Distribution Manager Special Events Cartoonist IT Managers Webmasters Business Team Layout Old-Hands Graphics Monkey Contributing Writers Jamie Berkow Candice Shaw Erin Collins Liz Arsenault Laurie Kassabian Chris White Andrew Dickinson Kevin McHale Mark Patterson Eve Forster Melinda Parker Alicia Storey Dan Uno Kelly Lynn Ongaro Mark Samuel Patterson Kevin McHale A.J. Packman Omar Omar Omar Richard “Has-Been” Kelland Ross Jamieson Phrenz List Medusa, Justice Pillow, Gary Empire, rabidpanda, twinkie boy, Caustic Muffin, Captain Funk, epileptic penguin, Pink Samurai, cleobis, mustache peter, Wrecktal Fury, chicklette the cat, Ravenous Libido, NEGATIVEspace, Wreckin’ Logic, Chocolate Pilaf, tart, Frisbee Pilot, fridge on fire, Soul Brother #73, Flying Fox of the Yard, pulchra pax, Deipnosophist, Butterfinger McFlurry, SmootH, snowman, Orthonormal Donuts On the Cover We’re not saying Jacko’s guilty... Staff News Masthead Wednesday at 5:30pm. Writer’s Meeting at 5:45 Golden Words – Not a significant source of Vitamin A, saturated fats, or riboflavin. What is riboflavin, anyway? GOLDEN WORDS Wordsday, March 30th, 2005 Page 3 Commander Deathsphere and the Rap-Tap Fun Squad “Larry!” Commander Deathsphere sobbed uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face as he clawed in futility against the starship viewport. Could this really be happening? Had his beloved first mate Lawrence “Larry” Katsopoulos really been sucked into the cold, deadly vastness of space by a malfunctioning space toilet? And was that… lemon meringue he smelled? Dear God. A lemon meringue alert could only mean one thing: the squadron of enemy space crocodiles had arrived. He needed to focus. He swallowed both his grief and his tears in one mournful, salty gulp and turned to the bridge crew of the H.M.S.S. Bono. They stared back at him, shocked. “What are you all looking at?” Deathsphere sniffled. “We’ve got a war to win.” He dramatically tore off his ba�le warm-up track pants, to reveal the form-hugging silk ba�le shorts beneath. This was all the crew needed. Within seconds, the bridge was buzzing with activity. Deathsphere turned and gazed out the viewport at his first mate’s lifeless body. This is for you, Larry. *** One wouldn’t expect a twelve-foot-tall clone of David Bowie to be elected Mayor of Earth, but politics is sometimes an unpredictable beast – much like the aforementioned clone. The Ziggy Stardust Purges alone claimed eighty million lives. Mayor Bowie looked out over the sea of people gathered in Earth’s capital for the victory celebration and felt three of his four hearts fill with pride. He grinned and waved as he stepped up to the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “before each meal, I slaughter a bo�lenose dolphin. I feel it is the only way to obtain fresh dolphin meat. I insist on killing the dolphin with my bare hands, and its death is invariably the end of a long and bloody struggle. Similarly, today marks the end of a long and bloody struggle for mankind. The space crocodiles have been sent back to the space lagoons from whence they spawned. “We owe this victory to one man. A man of courage. A man of valour. A man with the clearest pores I’ve seen this side of a Swedish sauna factory. Citizens of Earth, I present to you Commander First Class Bryan Colossus Deathsphere.” The crowd erupted in wild cheering. Women threw their panties onto the stage. Female robots threw detailed schematics. All eyes went to the backstage curtain. After several breathless seconds, Commander Deathsphere emerged. won’t let us learn ballet with the human kids ‘cause our reptilian feet don’t fit in the shoes, and also we kill people sometimes.” The crowd suddenly fell silent. “Oh,” said Deathsphere, still shaken. “Right. Well, I guess I’m your new coach. I’m Commander Deathsphere.” His military-issue manblouse was untucked. His once-impeccably coiffed hair was a mess. He was clutching a half-empty bo�le of hyperwhiskey. Commander First Class Bryan Colossus Deathsphere was a train wreck. The weeks since Larry’s death had been hard on the Commander. His subordinates had tried to ignore his descent into alcoholism just as they’d disregarded the years of sexual harassment that preceded it, but it was impossible to ignore the stumbling, hiccupping shell of a man now standing before five hundred thousand stunned onlookers. Deathsphere grabbed the microphone and pulled it down to his quivering lips. “I’m… so… sick of you people,” he slurred. “I’m sick of the Space Corps. I’m sick of fighting your wars. I’m sick of paying your whores. I’m sick of a lot of other shit that doesn’t even rhyme.” He took a long swig of hyperwhiskey. “You can all go to hell.” He then lost his balance and fell off the edge of the levitating stage, plummeting twenty feet into an adorable but unluckily-placed basket of space puppies. None survived. *** Commander Deathsphere glumly stuffed his hands in his pockets as he stared at the sign. Des Moines Ballet Academy. Twenty years in the Corps, twelve counts of space piloting under the influence, and a few dozen dead prize-winning puppies had led to this: a hundred hours of court-ordered community service. He’d been grateful for not receiving any jail time, but how the hell was he supposed to teach ballet to a bunch of kids? The solitary confinement, electroshock torture and Taco Bell-catered meals of the Neptune Penitentiary suddenly seemed a lot be�er in comparison. Deathsphere sighed and entered the building. Inside, he found a pack of velociraptors waiting for him. “Oh, fuck me!” he screamed in horror. “Here, take my wallet! Take it!” “Relax, mister,” said one of the raptors calmly. “We’re just kids.” “Talking raptors? Christ, what are they pu�ing in these AA pills?” “We’re super-intelligent,” another raptor said. “The government genetically engineered us to fight space terrorists, but now they just use those ki�ens that explode when you hug them. They “It’s nice to meet you, Commander Deathsphere,” said the first raptor. “My name’s Dakota Fanning.” “Any relation to the early 21st century porn actress?” “The what?” “Never mind,” Deathsphere said. He sat down on a bench and rubbed his eyes. “Look… you all seem like nice raptors, but to be honest, I don’t want to be here. I don’t know a damn thing about ballet. The only kind of dancing I know is tap. I had to learn it at Space Academy. It was either that or ultrasonic jazz band.” “Can you show it to us?” “Fine,” Deathsphere sighed, standing up. He executed a quick soft shoe routine, ending with a flawless stag leap. “There. Happy?” “Cool!” said Dakota Fanning. “Like this?” She imitated the entire routine perfectly, her sickle-shaped talons clacking on the hard gymnasium floor. “Not bad,” said Deathsphere, genuinely impressed. “Try this one.” He performed a more advanced routine. This time, the entire group of raptors repeated it in unison, step for step. For the first time since he smoked a fat-ass blunt of space weed with Larry on the bridge of the Bono, Commander Deathsphere grinned. *** No one could have predicted it, but genetically enhanced velociraptors were naturals at tap dancing. Their heavy forelimbs gave them incredible balance, their talons made special shoes unnecessary, and their supercharged brains allowed them to memorize elaborate dance routines instantly. The raptors called themselves the RapTap Fun Squad, and they quickly rose through the ranks of the galactic tap circuit. They soon became superstars on Earth, hobnobbing with celebrities and eating only the finest diplodocus eggs. Still, they never lost sight of their goal: the Francisco J. Muniz Cup. It was the galaxy-wide tap dancing title, lusted a�er by every man, woman, child and metrosexual who had ever donned a pair of tap shoes. Before long, it was within the reach of Deathsphere’s ragtag group of preadolescent girlraptors. Only one competition – the galactic final – remained. “I’ve never been good at pep talks,” Commander Deathsphere said the night before the championship contest. “All I know is the past few months have been some of the best times of my life, except for the forty-one years of my life before the first mate of my starship died. So, even if you lose, I know I’ll be proud. But seriously, don’t lose, because I have fi�y grand riding on this and the Space Yakuza is going to cut off my other testicle if I don’t pay them.” The team got the message. The next day, they gave the most mind-blowing, heart-wrenching tap performance of their lives. The Nova Scotia private school they were competing against looked like a group seizure next to them. Finally, the moment of truth arrived. The head judge was none other than David Bowie, Mayor of Earth. “I was extremely impressed by what I saw today,” he said a�er the teams had performed. “I don’t think there’s any question that the Rap-Tap Fun Squad deserves the Frankie Muniz Cup.” The velociraptors cheered wildly. Commander Deathsphere smiled from ear to ear. They’d done it. “However,” continued Bowie, ignoring the celebration, “I’d like to direct your attention to paragraph three of the Official Galactic Tap Rulebook. I quote, ‘All competitors must wear commissionapproved tap dancing shoes during championship performances.’ Since the Fun Squad wore no tap shoes, I’m afraid the Cup goes to Antigonish Prep.” Before anyone else could react, Dakota Fanning had pounced on Mayor David Bowie and removed most of his internal organs with one quick swipe through the chest. She turned to the other judges. “Would anyone else like to read from the rulebook?” Clever girl, thought Deathsphere. The judges gaped at her, trembling. One of them wordlessly handed her the Frankie Muniz. She, in turn, handed it to Deathsphere. “Congratulations, Commander. The Rap-Tap Fun Squad is the 2008 galactic tap dance champion. And it’s all thanks to you!” “No, Dakota Fanning,” Deathsphere said, “I think we had a higher power helping us today.” He turned his gaze upward. Thanks, Larry. Bu�erfinger McFlurry Page 4 GOLDEN WORDS Volume 39, Issue 24 How to get a wicked summer job As some of you may know, I recently acquired a summer job so fucking sweet, it makes oil boy at the all-supermodel strip wrestling club look like night janitor at the centre for projectile vomit research. My contract stipulates that I can’t tell you what this job is, but let’s just say it rhymes with “hardcore porn scar.” Now, it is more than likely that I got this job because I am awesome. It is also more than likely that you couldn’t get this kind of job even if you pulled more strings than the quality assurance guy at a thong factory; this is not a problem. With these helpful hints, you’ll be ready to do to the job market what I did to my co-star while auditioning for my summer job. Step 1: Punch your weight Sure, there are some wicked summer jobs out there, except not for you. Sure, La Senza has lingerie-modeling internships, but you’re not going to get one. This is partially because you simply don’t have the body for it, partially because you don’t have any modeling experience, but mostly because you’re a guy, and years of beer commercials have convinced you that there’s nothing easier than walking into a situation where you get to watch beautiful girls get naked. Reality check Romeo: those guys in the beer commercials are broke, mostly out of work actors who aren’t nearly as aroused by the half-naked girls around them as they are by the prospect of having enough money to avoid eating cat food for the fourth week running. Let’s get realistic, maybe you’re studying biology and you want a job in your field. Get a job eating unidentified bacteria! It pays well and, as soon as you go blind or suffer a debilitating illness, the government starts giving you money for nothing! This is the kind of shit you need to get into if you want to work your way up the bacteria-eating ladder, widely considered to be the most lucrative branch of the new and exciting field of X-treem biology. Let’s say you want overseas experience. Why not just fly to Afghanistan and walk around for a while? Chances are within your first day there you’ll be recruited by a warring tribe, or asked to replace a recently assassinated cabinet minister, or mistakenly shot in the leg by a Canadian peacekeeper, in which case, the government starts paying you for free again! These kinds of jobs are out there, folks. Step 2: Lie like a dog on your résumé Résumé comes from the ancient Latin word “Resumus” which means “Fantasy dream paper.” Most people don’t understand the point of a résumé. They think you’re supposed to put what you’ve done with your life on there. A résumé is your chance to talk about what you’d like to have done, what you think your employer would have liked to see you do, or what you think might be doable given the known physical laws of the universe. That’s why no one writes “I worked at a donkey slaughterhouse” on their résumé. Rather, they write “Worked at a donkey slaughterhouse.” This is important. You’ll want to write something like “Went to the moon in a spaceship” on your résumé. Who cares if you didn’t actually do that shit? Somebody has! Your résumé should resemble a cross between a Lewis Carol novel and Hunter S. Thomson’s life story. Nothing looks be�er on a sheet of paper than the sentence: “Successfully fought off alien invasion.” Most employers don’t have the time to check every single detail on a résumé. In fact, they don’t even contact your references, they just look to see if it’s anybody they’ve heard of. That’s why your reference list should always include Nelson Mandela, Bono, and the Internet. Step 3: Rock the shit out of your interview Acing an interview is a lot like disposing of a dead body: you want to be thorough, meticulous, and you don’t want to brag about it later. An interview is your chance to show your prospective employers that you have what it takes to be a productive member of their business. Your interview begins well before you even enter the building. If you pull up in a nice car wearing nice clothes, your employer knows you’re not messing around. If you pull up wearing pimp coat in a souped up Honda Civic with “Biggie Lives!” written on the side, your employer knows you’re not messing around… assuming your employer is Ice Cube. You’ll want to prepare for common interview questions in advance. For example, when they ask you, “What’s your biggest weakness?” you should be able to answer immediately, “I have a nasty habit of hunting down and killing the family members of employers who don’t hire me.” That kind of straightforwardness lets them know you’re serious about excellence in the workplace. Professionalism is also important. Try not to touch yourself during the interview, unless it’s part of your performance art piece and you’re applying for an Arts Canada grant, but beware, thousands of people walk in to Arts Canada and touch themselves in the hopes of ge�ing a grant, so find a way to separate yourself from the crowd. Maybe wear a top hat while you’re doing your thing or scream, “No Apartheid Wall!” every once in a while and call it a political art piece. grabbers Wordsday, March 30th, 2005 Jackson calls himself “warrior”; other warriors disagree LOS ANGELES — Michael Jackson not only continues to proclaim his innocence in light of his child molestation trial, but recently made bold statements in an interview with Jesse Jackson to say he was holding up well. The King of Pop proclaimed on Rev. Jackson’s radio show last week, “I’m a strong person. I’m a warrior, and I know what is inside of me.” Jim Hellwig, be�er known to millions as pro wrestler Ultimate Warrior, disagrees with Jackson’s claim. The former WWF Intercontinental Champion said in a statement released from his Santa Fe, New Mexico home, “Mr. Jackson is not a warrior. Did he face Hulk Hogan at Wrestlemania VII? Did he get put into a coffin by the Undertaker? Did he have an ongoing feud with Ravishing Rick Rude? I think not.!” “I just wish the Macho Man hadn’t interfered in my match with Sgt. Slaughter back in ’91 at Royal Rumble when I lost the World Championship belt.” Other warriors weighed in on the comments. Rodney White, small forward for the NBA’s Golden State Warriors also voiced his disapproval at Jackson’s analysis. “Try ge�ing out there and guarding LeBron James for forty-eight minutes. That guy trash- GOLDEN WORDS talks like you wouldn’t believe, and the refs let him get away with murder. And then try only ge�ing paid two million dollars a year, instead of thirty. That’s rough.” Some, however, are sympathetic to Michael’s claim. “I guess you might call me a warrior,” commented Lt. Ray Mills of the U.S. Special Operations Forces, “and I’d say that he’s worthy of the title. He was forced into fame and fortune as young child, which can be very trying. I never went through it, but as someone who served in Afghanistan during Operation Enduring Freedom, I think we’ve had similar amounts of anguish in our lives. Who’s to say that being under heavy fire in a broken-down Jeep is worse than being really rich when you’re 11?” North Korea acknowledges presence of common cold PYONGYANG — In an unprecedented announcement, North Korean officials — notorious for being extremely secretive about conditions inside their country — have admi�ed that the set of viruses known to cause the common cold are present in their country. The Korean Peoples’ Central News Agency on Monday said, “We have reason to believe these viruses have narrowly evaded the watchful eye of the Great Leader and penetrated our Utopic socialist paradise.” Their South Korean counterparts have been open about the presence of the cold viruses in their country for decades. Deputy Minister of Health for South Korea, Jong-wook Lee, said it was about time for the North to recognize the virus’s presence. “It’s been over fi�y years since that lunatic Kim Il-Sung took over. We’ve known about germs for almost two centuries. Page 5 have experienced cut-backs in their power. Since 1975, the government in Malaysia has been expanding at what international observers consider a “ridiculous” rate. “It’s a welcome change,” acknowledges shop-owner Abdullah Badawi. “Last December, I forgot to do up the last bu�on on my shirt, and was jailed for three months on charges of indecency. The Department for the Correct Bu�oning of Casual A�ire was pre�y reasonable, but the Department for Tucking in of Shirt-Like Garments really let me have it.” “Shoot, it’s not as if suggesting a twomicrometre-long virus being able to get through your national borders means we’re going to be breezing across the DMZ anytime soon, y’know.” “It’s been great for my family,” commented local business man Muhammad al-Kaiz. “My son’s been in jail for eight years since he violated the “No Eating With Your Hands” Act of 1983. The recent changes mean we’ll be able to visit him this weekend and celebrate his ninth birthday.” When pressed for acomment, North Korean officials remained tight-lipped about the presence of such other tiny invaders such as bacteria, dust particles, smog, atmospheric carbon dioxide molecules, troll dolls, and mini-carrots. However, not all Malaysians are happy with the changes. “It really is a slap in the face,” lamented Omar Aziz, Shadow Minister for Keeping Papers and Magazines Neatly Piled on Desks and Tables. “I mean, we are the ones keeping this country in a decent state. Can you imagine a world where citizens freely fold in the corners of pages to mark their place in novels, or where umbrellas can be maliciously rested against walls at non-30 degree angles?” Malaysia to Curb “Moral Policing” KUALA LUMPUR – Following complaints about state officials being too intrusive in the lives of citizens, many Malaysian state departments Flying Fox of the Yard, Frisbee Pilot Page 6 GOLDEN WORDS The Sheriff Sheriff Malcolm Malcolmson is the leading law enforcement officer of the Westborough Township. Our crews followed his beat on a perilous 24-hour ride-along. always use a good man on the force. I’m deputizing you, here’s your badge and a gun. Let’s clean up this town.” 0734h – Code 331, Paper Delivery: “What’s that? No time for Johnny Law? Listen, you need to cool down, son. Turn in your badge and gun. You’re off the force. In fact, it sounds like you need to spend a night in the slammer to cool off. I’ll talk to you in the morning.” Malcomson’s rich voice echoed down the hallway as we approached his office. We opened the door only to discover that he was already in a conversation with one of his constituents. “You’re just here to deliver the paper?” he asked the t e e n a g e r. “Well then, d o n ’t b e s h y. S e t i t down over there close to those empty bottles.” There was a pause. “I like your moxie – I can The youth tried, haltingly, to decline the offer. The sheriff wasn’t amused. 0821h – Code 731, Stamp Buyery: “Yes, I’d like to buy some stamps. I’m mailing this dead fish to Bart the Bandit,” said the Sheriff. The clerk gestured towards a posted sheet of regulations. “What do you mean I can’t mail a fish!?” Malcomson bellowed. “I’ve been mailing fish ever since you were in diapers!” “Now everybody calm down,” he yelled, brandishing his revolver. “I don’t want things to get out of control. Put down that letter opener: you’re under arrest! 0907h – Code 401, Disturbance in a coffee-serving establishment: Obeying local speed limits, our crew was several minutes behind the Sheriff when they arrived at the coffee house. “Hang on,” he was saying. “This looks like a small la�e. I ordered the big one! Madam, you’re under arrest. Society is be�er off with people like you behind bars. I hope you enjoy your new home behind cold steel bars.” He locked her in the back of the squad car before returning to buy doughnuts. “Let me get this straight,” he drawled, “If I buy a dozen doughnuts, you’ll give me a free one?” The clerk was lying on the floor with his hands behind his back, hoping to avoid the nightstick. “I like your style, Doughnutman. I’m going to deputize you. Here’s a badge and a gun. Welcome to the force. There’s only one thing you need to remember: ‘Crime never pays.’” 1031h – Code 060, Medical Malpractice: We weren’t allowed into the doctor’s exam room, but we did observe a figure in a labcoat being removed from the building and admonished that “‘hard time’ will teach [him] to diagnose people with liver disease.” 1058h – Code 191, Disturbing the peace: Yet again, we caught up with the Sheriff mid-arrest. “Break-dancing? Never heard of it. Sounds like fighting to me. Is this your cardboard? No? Thief!” S50529 Queens 102x190.5 23/3/05 2:52 pm Page 1 I ’m p u t t i n g you behind bars. I’ll let you out of the slammer once you’ve calmed down.” Volume 39, Issue 24 As the youth was cuffed, the boy’s mother began protesting. “Ma’am, if you gave him the cardboard then you’re an accomplice. You’re under arrest! You’ve got a one way ticket to the county jail. It’s always the ones you never suspect.” He then arrested everyone in the two adjacent houses, including all the Study Law In England Start your preferred course in September 2005 LLB - no prior degree for 3-year program (www.le.ac.uk/law/canada) BEng - Engineering, various specializations of Engineering Toronto, April 11, Bahen Centre, 40 St. George St., Rm 1180, 7pm Ottawa, April 12, Morisset Bldg., 65 University, Rm 205, 7pm Halifax, April 14, Dalhousie Student Un. Bldg., 6136 University Ave., Rm 224, 7pm Contact University of Leicester University Road, Leicester, LE1 7RH UK Tel: 011 44 116 252 2296 email: [email protected] www.le.ac.uk St. John’s, April 15, Health Sciences Centre, Rm 2956, 6pm Leicester is located in the picturesque Midlands, with easy access to London. All first year students are guaranteed housing. The UK system includes lectures and small group tutorials, (e.g. 8 per class). We ducked behind the camera car as the air was sha�ered by gunshots. The deputy had narrowly missed the bear. “ Yo u ’ r e o u t o f c o n t r o l , M r . Doughnutman!” yelled the Sheriff. “Just look at yourself! You’re a loose cannon! Turn in your badge and your gun. I’m taking you off this bear case. In fact, I’m pu�ing you in the slammer in case you try to kill again.” Gun drawn, the Sheriff pursued the bear into a shopping mall. He emerged a second later with a crying shop owner in handcuffs. “Crime never pays.” At this point the bear wandered into the parking lot. “Hey! Bear! Yes, you,” said Malcomson. “Put down that honey jar! You’ve got spirit, and that counts where I come from. You’re my new deputy. Here’s a badge and a gun.” The danger over, we asked the Sheriff to record a brief monologue. Asking the Sheriff to record a monologue is a crime in Westborough. “What a great day,” said Malcomson, shoving us into the already crowded back seat of his cruiser. “I’ve never managed to arrest everyone before noon.” 1412h – Si�ing in jail: Sheriff Malcomson was in the next room arguing with his deputy. “Eating garbage discredits the force, man! You’re losing your edge. Turn in your badge and gun! I’m pu�ing you in the slammer.” The bear roared before he was locked in the large open cell with the rest of us. Please send help! Gary Empire & Ravenous Libido Top Seven Reasons You Have a Headache 2. You painted your room and then fell asleep in it. BSc - Genetics, Biochemistry, Microbiology, Financial Economics A representative from the University of Leicester will be giving a presentation on the University and the application process at: 1132h – Code 923, Loose Bear: 1. You danced without a helmet. The University of Leicester is currently accepting applications for: BA - International Relations, Management Studies guests of a 10th birthday party, “for good measure.” 3. You took a reverse Tylenol by mistake. 4. You are Marie Curie. 5. You sleep on a rock. 6. You don’t have a brain stem, but you have three kidneys. 7. You insist on head-bu�ing people to say “hello.” A Leading Research & Teaching University grabbers Wordsday, March 30th, 2005 GOLDEN WORDS Page 7 Page 8 GOLDEN WORDS Volume 39, Issue 24 Courage Those potatoes won’t fry themselves, sailor! Queen’s Golf and Country Club Queen’s Golf and Country Club has been delivering some of the most challenging golf in the Kingston area since 1841. With 9 scenic holes spanning over 3600 championship yards, the Queen’s Golf and Country Club ranks in the top 937 courses in Ontario. With many natural and man-made obstacles, the QGCC demands a careful shot and determined play through the Ghe�oest of conditions. Queen’s Golf and Country Club is proud to be one of the finest golf courses on campus with a rich history and contribution to the game of golf. One-of-a-kind flag positions! Enjoy Panoramic Views from the Heights of Chernoff. Challenging Obstacles! Fastest greens in town! “Play it where it lies, good buddy!” Summerhill, a majestic tee (for experts only). Unique underground asphalt-traps - only ones in Kingston! Featuring multi-leveled putting greens! Vote “Yes” on the $85.00 opt-outable Golf Course fee next year! “Look out for that rough!” Call 533-3001 for more information! Page 10 GOLDEN WORDS Volume 39, Issue 24 Confessions of George Sanders: Artifact Recovery Engineer The career I chose isn’t an easy one. The hours are long, the pay is paltry, and it plays havoc with relationships. Honestly, though, there isn’t another job that I could do. I’m an artifact hunter. I know a lot of you aren’t familiar with just what my job entails so allow me to elaborate: I hunt for artifacts. I wasn’t always a hunter. I was an archeologist back before I went rogue. I could never abide with useless a�itudes, regulations, or international treaties, so I guess it was just a ma�er of time before I started off on my own. I still remember my first and last day in the system. I was fresh out of a competitive associate degree program at Richton Community College. I’d just watched the entire Indiana Jones Trilogy. I had my whip, my luger, and my fedora: I was the most promising young scholar in my field, and I was ready to kick some Nazi ass. So imagine my surprise a�er spending three days ge�ing to a dig site in Brazil to find a bunch of granola-eating college students fawning over some set of rocks in the middle of the jungle. They were spending hours painstakingly uncovering an inch at a time. If Raiders of the Lost Ark taught me anything, it’s that pros don’t waste their time and certainly don’t put up with filthy hippies. The first thing these guys did was tell me to put my gun away and set up a tent. If that wasn’t enough, this archeologist tries to convince me that World War II had been over for fi�y years. Fi�y years! What the hell does he know about history? Given the incompetence of the others, I did the only thing I could do: I stole their jeep, used it to uproot one of the rocks, and sold it to some guy in Rio for three kegs of Corona and a Snow album. It was the worst weekend ever. Yeah, those were the glory days. You wouldn’t believe the a�ention a guy in my line of work could get from the ladies. There were local guides, fossil groupies, and the occasional rival artifact huntress. Man, those were the days. In the nineties, I must have go�en laid at least two, three times. But times have go�en tougher. Now, instead of Peru and Lima, the real artifact hunters stay closer to home, namely the Pineridge Cemetery. A lot of people just don’t understand. My parents, my friends, the police, they all think I’m in it for the money. If I wanted money, I would have followed in my brothers’ steps and taken a job in the family business making shovels. They just don’t understand how much happier I am as their most loyal customer. Well, the most loyal customer who steals from their inventory on a regular basis. They say it’s unethical but everything I do, I do for science. For example, if I hadn’t excavated Mr. Wilson’s grave, how would we have discovered what life was like back in 1998? Speaking frankly, the gold buried with him didn’t belong in the ground. It belonged in a museum, or at least a really nice pawn shop. So did his tuxedo. I t ’s a h a r d , thankless job. A lot of people stand in the way of scientific discovery. They question, complain, and organize massive manhunts. Still, I just try to do my job. I’m good at t h e wo r k . I always know where to find a decent excavation s i t e ― t h e y ’r e surprisingly well marked. Besides, I know it’s just a matter of time before another civilization gets wiped out and puts me back in the black. Ravenous Libido USE IT OR LOSE IT Physiotherapy • Massage Therapy • Acupuncture Covered by your Queen’s Student Health Insurance. No referral necessary… call for details. PRO-ACTIVE 800 Princess Street, Suite 400 Medical Arts Building (Close to campus) 549-4393 PRO-ACTIVE is accredited by the National Sports Centre of Ontario and recommended as the centre to treat elite and carded athletes. Wordsday, March 30th, 2005 GOLDEN WORDS Page 11 A GW Guide to April Fool’s Pranks The Airframe Gambit Prognosis: Dolphin Go to Home Depot, replace all the half-inch screws with quarter-inch screws, and watch the next generation of Boeing 747s fall apart. Find a dolphin, write “You have hepatitis C” on it with a magic marker, and carefully place it in your friend’s bed while they sleep. The Jenny From The Bloc Quebecois The Jolly Scotsman In French, April Fool’s is called “Poisson d’avril.” Stuff a fish full of dynamite and leave it on Avril Lavigne’s doorstep. Attach a sign saying “Hug Me” to your friend’s back. (This prank will not work unless your friend is recovering from several broken ribs.) The Last Train To Pranksville The Bananabath Maneuver If you’re a train conductor, inform your passengers that the next stop is Bear Junction, Land of Bears. As they chuckle lightly, jump out of the conductor’s car before the train hits the mountain. Balance a bucket of puréed bananas atop your friend’s door and watch as chaos ensues. The Corleone Caper Balance a Crabbuckit atop your friend’s door and watch as K-OS ensues. Replace your friend’s Godfather DVD’s with Godfather VHS tapes. The Iraqapella With Bob Dylan’s assistance, help Saddam Hussein reinvent himself as a folk singer. Before his big April 1st concert at Carnegie Hall, remove his vocal cords and watch him feel uncomfortable and embarrassed before a large crowd. The Juno Jitsu The Mob Hit Order a mob hit on the prankee. The O-Face Freeze the O-rings on your friend’s space shu�le. Aldous Could Be Yours The Firehouse Folly String an invisible wire across your friend’s doors of perception and watch them trip. Breathlessly tell your housemate that their bedroom is on fire. If they laugh good-naturedly and congratulate you on the April Fool’s joke, light their room on fire and tell them this is what they get for doubting you. The Bong Kiss Goodnight Replace your friend’s bongwater with gasoline. It will leave a horrible smell. grabbers GOLDEN WORDS Page 12 There are some days I wish I could take a break from this job. Even when I’m on vacation, I just can’t separate myself from my work. As I watch the sun set on the vast Libyan tundra, I can’t help but wonder what’s going on back in Washington. Are our nation’s citizens protected from the evils abroad? Did Bob remember to refill the snack machine? I am plagued with questions. Some people are married to their work, but me, I’m in a sado-masochistic relationship with my job. It wears a black vinyl mask and nightly makes me its pliable plaything. It’s a wonder I come back day a�er day, pleading for its nine tails of pain to tear into my flesh, but I can’t stay away. My country is my job, my job is my life, and I love my life. People say I’m a hero, but I’m just doing my duty for America. My name is Jack Bauer, and I train Po k é m o n f o r t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s Government. I work at a place called CTG: CounterTerrorist Gym. You see, a gym is where you train Pokémon, only in this gym, we train Pokémon to ba�le terrorists. Bulbasaur, Squirtle, Bu�erfree… if it’s a Pokémon, we can train it. I’ve just go�en a phone call; it’s from the President himself. He needs me. *** “It’s beautiful. It’s absolutely beautiful.” The president is crouched over his desk, America, i choose you a magnifying glass in his hand, gazing at something as if it were a precious jewel. His eyes are brimming with tears of rapture. He sure loves his bo�le-cap collection. “Jack, come here. I want you to see this. I call it… The Apogee.” “Sir, you wanted to see me about some sort of terrorist plot,” I remind him. “Oh yes. The terrorists.” He locks The Apogee into its place at the very center of a large display case. It flips back into his desk, and he returns his a�ention to me. “They’ve developed a new Pokémon. It’s an evolution of the vicious Zangoose, called Zamiltiger.” “But Mr. President, that’s impossible! Zangoose is a non-evolving Pokémon!” “I know, Jack. God forgive us all.” *** I answer to Professor Holland Oak, the foremost Pokémon researcher in the country and head of CTG. He’s handing me a photo collected from a recent excursion to South Africa. “This is an awful shot, Oak. Everyone knows Pokémon hate having their backs photographed. Why didn’t your photographer throw a pesterball to spin them around? What a rookie move.” “I said the same things, Jack, but this is the first ever photograph of Zamiltiger. He’s a very rare Pokémon.” “Who’s that in the photo with him?” “That’s Jigglypuff. The man on the phone is Kareem Abdul Jabbar. We think he’s the mastermind behind this whole operation. We want you to find him and stop him. I’ve paired you with a dashing young agent who’s new to CFG. His name’s Ash. Show him the poké-ropes. Oh, and Jack... bring Jabbar back home alive. My wife wants an autograph.” “Professor, that’s not your wife. You’re pointing at a socket wrench.” “Dammit, Jack, I don’t need any more of your lip. Just get this done.” *** We locate the terrorist trio in an abandoned gym near the border of Limpopo. Jabbar is just leaving, with Zamiltiger at his heels. “Jabbar, you’re sunk! Prepare for Pokéba�le!” I call, catching him off guard. Options make all the difference Les options font toute la différence No matter what your Peu importe la nature university education, de vos études you can enjoy a career universitaires, vous with a difference in pouvez bénéficier the Canadian Forces. d’une carrière He doesn’t spare any time. “Zamiltiger! I choose YOU!” “Blastoise!” I cry out. I hope Jabbar doesn’t know my greatest weakness: my daughter is as accident-prone as a Volume 39, Issue 24 deaf bat in the dark, and every single season I have to drop everything to save her tight, blonde kaboose. That’s just the kind of guy I am. Right away, Jabbar pulls out the big guns. “Endangerment of… KIM BAUER!” I turn around to see my daughter’s frightened face. She must have followed us. “Kim!” I cry out. “Kim!” Ash echoes. I turn to him, puzzled. “Oh no, panthers!” my daughter screams. Three giant jungle cats pounce out of nowhere and tear her to shreds. Cackling maniacally, Jabbar morphs into a winged basketball and flies away. “Oh cruel fate! Take meeeeeeee!” Ash howls at the sky. He drops to her side, which appears to be all that’s le� of her. He gazes up at me. “We were engaged,” he explains. “You bastard,” I spit at him. “How dare you date my daughter?” “What does it ma�er who she dates?” His eyes narrowed. “We were in love.” “The life of a Pokémon trainer is too dangerous for love, Ash. You can’t do this job and have a life. I tried and failed. My wife – and now my daughter – have both been killed by poké-terrorists. You think you can do things differently? Well, you can’t. You need to choose between a life of love and a life of Pokémon, Ash. Make your choice.” Ash blinked a tear away. He lowered his head in thought, fingering his dead fiancée’s lapel. When he looked back up at me, his face was filled with determination and strength. He u�ered the words every counter-terrorist trainer loves to hear. “America... I choose you.” Caustic Muffin différente dans les • Engineers Forces canadiennes. • Physiotherapists • Social Workers • Ingénieurs • Pilots • Physiothérapeutes • Doctors • Travailleurs sociaux/ travailleuses • Nurses sociales • Pharmacists • Naval Officers • Pilotes • Médecins To learn more, • Infirmiers/infirmières contact us today. • Pharmaciens/ pharmaciennes • Officiers de marine Pour obtenir de plus amples renseignements, veuillez communiquer avec nous dès aujourd’hui. Strong. Proud. Today’s Canadian Forces. Découvrez vos forces dans les Forces canadiennes. 1 800 856-8488 www.forces.gc.ca VIOLENCE IN THEATRES EVERYWHERE APRIL 8 Wordsday, March 30th, 2005 GOLDEN WORDS I no longer hold my keys on a lanyard because people kept yanking it out of my pocket. I’d get mad at them, but whenever I see someone else with a lanyard sticking out of their pockets, I’ll try and take it without them noticing. Does that make me a hypocrite? Anyways, I’m ge�ing pre�y good at it. any idea what anyone is talking about. Earlier in the year, this guy was playing music a few doors down from me. He asked me if it bothered me. I said “no” to be nice, but over the course of the year it’s really go�en on my nerves and now it’s too late to say anything. One time, this guy asked me if I had a stapler and I said I didn’t even though I did. The stapler was on my desk (si�ing beside my printer.) I hope he didn’t see it. I bought a dryerase calendar from the bookstore at the beginning of the year. I don’t use it. It just sits on my wall. Sometimes I’ll write fake dates and assignments and stuff on it. Several people have commented on how organized I am. Sometimes I’ll be hanging out with upper-years and they’ll start talking about Queen’s politics and stuff. I’ll nod sagely and sometimes make a very generic comment, but I don’t really have I own and operate a toaster in my residence room on a regular basis. I frequently don’t wear socks. Laundry is really expensive. I also use less than a full cup of Tide just to save money. I steal coffee mugs from Leonard Cafeteria. I like to grow bonsai trees in them but I always forget to water them. I always return the mugs a�er the trees die. I have a great set of speakers for my computer, but I always use my earphones because I don’t want anyone to know the lame types of music I listen to. On an unrelated note, I clean my Internet cookies and history every day in case someone comes over. When I go home and see some of my friends that are still in high school, I lie all about the “crazy times” I’ve been having at university. It makes me feel like a big wheel. I still don’t have a textbook for economics. Everyone seems to talk while they’re doing their business in the bathrooms. Page 13 I finally got used to it when guys do it, but when a girl says, “Hey, who’s next to me?” I feel really awkward. I no longer use the coed bathroom because of this. I think Diet Pepsi tastes better than regular Pepsi. People will ask me why I’m drinking a Diet Pepsi and I’ll tell them I’m on a diet but really, I just like the taste... I don’t feel the same way about Coke. Diet Coke tastes like copper. I once went out on a date but didn’t brush my teeth beforehand. I just used mouthwash. The date went really poorly so it wasn’t an issue. I once went an entire month without wearing deodorant. I just sprayed myself with Febreze. No one noticed until I switched to Citrus-Scented Febreze. I have this really funny friend. Sometimes he’ll tell me a joke and I’ll remember it. I’ll tell it to someone else at a party or something - and if they laugh, I credit myself. I’m terrible with names. One time this girl on my floor saw me on Princess St. and said, “Hey, Steve!” but I didn’t know her name, so I just pretended I couldn’t hear her and went into the nearest building, the Hemporium. I told the clerk there I was “just browsing.” I don’t take notes in film class. When people ask why, I say it’s because I don’t need to. But I do. Over the course of the year I’d say it’s cost me about 10% of my mark. I wear white iPod earphones so people will think I have an iPod. I don’t plug them into anything. Once I couldn’t find my sandals so I didn’t have a shower that day. Once for April Fools, I made my vegetarian friend dinner and snuck some pork in it. I told him it was tofu. My parents got me a $300 watch for Christmas. I lost it so I went to Wal Mart and bought a $10 replacement. They can’t tell the difference. I once made love on the roof of the JDUC. It wasn’t nearly as romantic as I thought it would be, mostly due to the gravel and broken glass. Ryan Reynolds is absolutely dreamy. I wouldn’t ever marry him, though, I don’t think he’d make a good husband. Deipnosophist Page 14 GOLDEN WORDS • You’re incredibly stupid Si • You’re really smart, but you’re in a coma • The guy who’s writing your reference le�er walked in on you and his wife totally going at it u o ’r e n y s n g o Volume 39, Issue 24 • You tell the graduate student giving you a tour of the Computer Science building that you’d like to “recompile that sweet ass” t • On the financial aid application, you answer the question about financing your education by checking off the box marked “Thuggery” • You think Grad school applications work like American Idol auditions, and you can’t sing for shit • You’re applying for a Masters in Chemistry, but your undergraduate degree is in Tantric Massage • “Volunteering and doing shit with stuff ” doesn’t fill up the entire extra curricular involvement sheet on the application, so you just glue a picture of you standing outside a Children’s hospital giving the thumbs up • Your proposed thesis is titled, “Pimps up, hos down? Questioning the ageold hierarchy” • Your entire application is a crude drawing of a giant laser cannon next to the words “The future is now!” • Your undergraduate advisor has been referring to you as “Chuckles McNofuture” for the past four years • All the mistakes you made in college come back to haunt you, including skipping class, cheating on tests and se�ing the graduate studies building on fire in the middle of an LSDinduced rage fit • On the day of your interview, you forget to take the gimp mask off before you leave the house • A professional degree simply doesn’t do that much for your earning potential when you work in the field of bull semen collection t ti n oo Ge • You mix up your grad school and Pimp My Ride applications, and Stanford sends you a le�er saying they don’t care that you drive a shi�y Camry l • You ask Harvard for an informational brochure and they send you back a Polaroid of you with the eyes poked out g in S to G rad ch • Your grad school application is covered in bull semen • That stuff goes for $900,000 a litre, dumbass epileptic penguin Flaws in the Car I Designed. 1. Bucket seats are actually buckets. 2. Flintstones braking system results in multiple compound fractures. 3. Child seat is also ejection seat; ejection seat is triggered by laughter; roof above ejection seat does not open. 4. Cruise control is a Top Gun DVD lodged under the gas pedal. 5. The steering wheel is a pizza pie. 6. A penguin in the trunk manages the entire coolant system. 7. The rearview mirror was taken from a funhouse. 8. During saucer separation all crewmembers on level six are sucked into the vacuum of space. 9. Speedometer is logarithmic. 10. There are only three gears: Reverse, Reversi, and Othello. grabbers GOLDEN WORDS Wordsday, March 30th, 2005 FROM THE FILES OF ENGSOC . . . Will pay $1000 for summer sublet. Why leave your place empty? Graduated student looking for place for May - August, willing to provide postdated cheques and references. Ideal spot: close to campus, close to down town, furnished, w/BBQ and porch. E-mail [email protected] if interested. Love, Ryan FREC SMOKER Hey Sci ‘08 Frecs, You have probably unconsciously noticed those li�le pointy things every half metre or so on the railing in the Clark Hall stairwell that leads to the pub and old lounge, but it likely never crossed your mind as to why those pointy things are there. Come celebrate your inauguration as Frosh Week’s coolest, scariest, most stunningly good looking when dyed gentian violet people. Meet the other Frecs, have a great time, and maybe earn a prize or two. As for physics: if it ain’t two digits, it doesn’t count. Many years ago began a story of someone enjoying themselves perhaps too much at the pub and a�empting to slide down the railing to get to ground level. But, being intoxicated (to the degree nobody knows), he almost broke his neck so for the longest time, a solution was engineered consisting of a large, coarse rope wrapped around the railing to prevent this from happening again. But for the sake of style, it was later changed to what we see today. Clark Hall Pub Please email the application to [email protected] by Wednesday April 13th. Application is available on our site: h�p://www.engsoc.queensu.ca/seed/ Kingston_English_QueenUniv.qxp To Eve and Imran, Happy Birthday on non-specified dates! Love, GW Housemate Wanted: Still looking for a place to live next year? This house has one empty room waiting for you. House is clean, 5 min from the Hub, has washer and dryer. Please contact [email protected]. Love, Les Wedensday April 6th 9:30 Dear ArtSci ‘05, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump Love, Sci ‘05 FREE SEED IS HIRING CO-CHAIRS NATIONAL CONFERENCE ON WOMEN IN ENGINEERING NOW HIRING 2005 EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE Dear Alexa, You’re hot. 13:14 Mike & Alex Dear Les, Thanks for the cake for my birthday. And by cake I mean no cake. “Love,” Eve The National Conference on Women in Engineering is now hiring its 2005 executive committee. Applications can be picked up in EngSoc and are to be submitted by 4pm on Sunday April 3rd, 2005 in the Black Box (Clark Hall). Questions? Email Darlene at [email protected] 2005-01-24 Page 15 Dear Les, At least I got her Donald Sutherland for her birthday. Sincerely, Kelly Dear Mark & Kelly, Thank you for being great Old-Hands! Love, Michelle Page 1 LASER VISION C O R R E C T I O N Student Care Special 475 $ Starting at Save over $300 ! /eye* Student Care Special Includes: • • • • Dr. Peter Agapitos Dr. Robert Morgan Dr. Donald Smallman Experience Across Canada, LASIK MD doctors have performed over 250,000 laser vision correction procedures, more than any other group. Technology We offer patients state-of-the-art technology and eye evaluation equipment, including the Bausch & Lomb ZyoptixTM laser. Results The large majority of our patients achieve 20/20 vision. Those are results you can see. Pre-procedure examination Laser treatment One Year Free Vision Care Plan for follow up visits Student Care Network health insurance plan will cover a portion of the cost of procedure CALL TODAY (613) 531-3337 Toll Free (866) 366-2020 279 King Street East, Kingston www.lasikmd.ca * For a limited time. Prices may vary based on prescription strength. Applicable to surgery on both eyes. M o n t r e a l • O t t a w a • K i n g s t o n • To r o n t o • N i a g a r a F a l l s • W i n d s o r • C a l g a r y • V a n c o u v e r CFL Draft Day — will Saskatchewan pick a dead guy again? Twenty snowman-preserving tips for Spring Morse Code: Poised for a renaissance? Heavy metal set to “tear Emo a new one” Eight sure-fire venison recipes April Fools Day backlash: Your guide to ge�ing stains out of just about anything GW reviews “Arachnophobia”... fi�een years too late Autogyro maintenance for the novice owner The new Spring diseases: is West Nile old hat? Autofellatio in six easy steps Join us in the GW forum www.goldenwords.net Do it NOW!!! Artwork by; Lil’ Taphy