by Imran

GOLDEN WORDS
Page 2
Volume 41, Issue 10
Editorial
by Imran
Excerpts from the
Semi-Autobiographical Novel I’m Writing
Page 1:
I emerged from the sensory
deprivation tank wet and
starving. A team of nurses
rushed over to cover me in
warm blankets and feed
me applesauce.
“Did it work?” I croaked,
barely able to speak.
“Yes,” said one of the
nurses. “They’re all dead.
Every member of the Goo
Goo Dolls is dead.”
I collapsed with relief. It
was done.
Page 45:
“Well, of course I’d like
to sit around and chat,” I
said, “but I’ve got a plane
to catch.”
The Prime Minister
narrowed his eyes. “Plane?
No, no, you ain’t takin’ no
plane, pal. I seen that, that,
uh, magic umbrella of yours.
You think I’m stupid? I
know your secret. I know
you can fly. I know what
you are.”
He was onto me. I had to
think fast.
“Good,” I said. “Okay
then.”
“ G o d f o r g i ve m e , ” I
murmured.
I unfurled my magic
umbrella and took off
from the balcony.
The hydrogen bombs
exploded in sequence
all across the horizon,
exactly like the computer
simulations had predicted.
Within seconds, six billion
people were irradiated. I
could only hope it was for
the greater good.
Page 133:
I clapped my hands twice
to get Frankie’s aention.
“Frankie, bring her in.
Bring the old girl in
here.”
Frankie led a fully-grown
Holstein cow into the
room. The tiny bell on its
neck clinked cheerfully.
“Mr. Trudeau, this is called
a cow,” I said.
The Prime Minister didn’t
answer. He was staring
into the cow’s eyes, mouth
agape.
“Cow,” I said again.
“GET OFF MY BOAT!”
screamed the archbishop.
Snake aer snake wriggled
up the arms of his frock
and bit him in the neck.
I looked up from my
hot fudge sundae and
chuckled lightly.
“Your Grace,” I said,
lobbing another snake at
him, “I never cease to be
impressed by your comic
timing.”
“ We ’r e t h e o n l y t wo
humans left alive,” said
Keira Knightley. “What do
we do now?”
I put my arm around her
waist. “I think we should
start by repopulating the
planet.”
Her eyes lit up. “You
mean…?”
Page 309:
What choice did I have? I
shut my eyes and pushed
the buon.
“Yes,” I said. “Here –
ovulate into this plastic
cup. I’ll get my chemistry
kit.”
“Cow,” he repeated.
Editorial
When I turn on the news
I want to see a man dive
from a burning tanker
truck hauling a nuclear
warhead. He’ll fall over
a cliff, only to be rescued
by a passing hang glider.
I want him to free solo
the cliff, chase down the
truck on foot, then fight
off an army of henchmen,
including their leader, a
mysterious mustached
man with a generic Slavic,
Germanic or possibly
Middle-Eastern accent.
Once that’s done, he’ll put
out the truck fire, and cut
the blue wire just before
time runs out.
Then the nuke goes off
because he should have
cut the red wire. I want
Maine to blow up, and
I don’t think that’s too
much to ask.That’s why
I’ve decided to revise
history. And to stay away
from Maine.
Volume XLI
Issue X
November 8th, 2006
Golden Words, Clark Hall
Queen’s University, Kingston, ON, K7L 3N6
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Contents copyright © 2006 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
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Golden Words is not intended for persons under the age of 18.
Editors
Don MacCannell
2:30PM - 4:30PM Tuesdays
Imran Zaidi
2:30PM - 4:30PM Wednesdays
by Don
I’ve Decided to Revise History
I have to admit, I’m just
not happy with the way
things have played out.
There’s poverty, inflation,
war, and syphilis. That’s
fine, but I really wish our
social problems were just
more entertaining.
Sola Veritas est qui Facit ut me in Merda
From now on, I’m only
acknowledging events
that entertain me, or make
me happier. Boring events
will be creatively edited.
For example, from now
on, the last Throne Speech
i n Pa r l i a m e n t l a s t e d
seventeen seconds and
ended in an aack by a
Tyrannosaurus.
My chief goal will
be ensuring that each
h i s t o r i c a l e ve n t h a s
adequate explosions. No
offense to Brad Pi, but
I’m prey sure that Troy
would have been a beer
movie if it had opened up
like Saving Private Ryan.
Actually, Saving Private
Ryan would have been a
beer movie if it ended
after twenty minutes.
Now it did.
Furthermore, each
important historical
event will be heralded
by the appearance of a
time-traveling cyborg
Hitler. He’ll yell the
words “Du Arschloche!
Meine Gestaltungsarbeit
war wundervoll!” in an
animated voice while
bullets ricochet off his
steel moustache. (All eras,
Operations Manager
Andrew Dickinson Office Hours by Appointment
cavemen onwards, now
have guns.)
Calvin: What? I’m not
a—
Finally, Tara Reid was
frozen solid, back in 2002
when people still liked
her. Furthermore, she
didn’t ever charge me with
trespassing, and did let me
get to third base.
Me: You could just kill
her yourself. They passed
a law.
A lot of people aren’t
going to like having their
lives rewritten, but if
Batman can deal with it,
then anybody can. At any
rate, I have a feeling that
dissenters are going to be
prey easy to deal with:
Seconds Later
Calvin: You really need to
stop this, Don.
Don: You can’t tell me
what to do, Beth.
Calvin: For the last time,
I’m Calvin. Calvin.
Police officer: Is there a
problem here?
Me: This terrorist just
threatened to kill me.
Police officer: I guess I’d
beer take him in, then.
Don: You mean ‘take her
in.’
Police officer: Really?
(draws gun) NOW I’M
JUDGE DREDD.
Police Officer: Justice is
served.
Me: What a strange
woman.
So really, there’s not much
point in discussing this
any further. As far as I’m
concerned, I just wrote a
brilliant editorial about
owning a windmill farm
and living in a zeppelin
at the same time. Do I like
wind? Do I hate it? I never
know.
What I do know is that
life is great, and nothing
anyone can do could
ever take that away from
me. At least not for very
long.
Business Manager
Alicia Storey
Office Hours by Appointment
Editorial Staff
Copy Editor
The REAL Layout Editor
The Real Slim Layout Editor
The Layout Monkey
Graphics Editor
Staff Writers
Senior Staff Writer
Mark McCann
Mark Marchak
Mark Dobrzensky
Mark “The Condos” Condos
Mark Tsang
Mark Hennessy
Mark Lesiuk
Mark Robinson
Mark Packman
Production Staff
Distribution Managers
Special Events
Cartoonists
IT Manager
Webmasters
Business Team
Contributing Writer
Mark Howell
Mark Zylstra
Mark Chan
Mark Krakatoa Fowlie
Mark Jerez
Mark Shoreman
Mark Gertsmann
Mark Heijselaar
Mark Vandendorpe
Mark Balabanian
Mark Stone
Mark Ahmad
Mark Blouw
Mark O’Connor
Whoopi Goldberg
Phrenz List
Ravenous Libido, Butterfinger McFlurry, tart, Snaggle Deuce, Justice
Pillow, Captain Funk, mustache peter, Caustic Muffin, Wreckin’ Logic,
Frisbee Pilot, fridge on fire, Soul Brother #73, Flying Fox of the
Yard, Deipnosophist, IvyClimber, A Wealthy Industrialist, snowman,
Indian Soul, LiL’ Taphy, commLob, dingledodie, wiggles, Appetite for
Destruction, Compton Kid, Gamebreaker, Milo Minderbinder, Fortuna
Tudor, Woody*, sippy cup, pepperpot, Local Hero, freedom toast,
Century Club, Arch the Angry Grapefruit, Glen Johnson, Faux Paws,
Inconspicuous Elephant, Mr. Amazing, kashous klay,
Banana Hammock Smoothee
On the Cover
The zebra died with vengence in its heart and blood in its lungs.
Staff News
Masthead Wednesday at 5:30pm
Golden Words – Defending your right to bear arms
since 1967.
Wordsday, November 8th, 2006
Maître d’: Johnson, party of four?
GOLDEN WORDS
Cook #3: I don’t really like soup. How about we make
a cake instead?
Mr. Johnson: Yes, that’s us.
Page 3
(A man approaches the maître d’ in a huff.)
Man: I’d like to register a complaint.
Cook #4: Yeah, cakes are great. Soup’s for idiots.
(The maître d’ examines Mr. Johnson and his plain-looking
family.)
Maître d’: Hmmm... I think we can do better.
Anybody?
Maître d’: Ok. Let’s hear it, fuckwit.
Cook #1: Jesus Christ, haven’t you people ever heard
the expression “too many cooks spoil the broth”?
Man: Fuckwit? Well, then I’ve got two complaints to
register.
Cook #2: This is soup, Mark. Try to keep your head
in the game.
Maître d’: Let’s hear them, salbo.
Cook #3: I thought we agreed on cake.
Man: Salbo? Is… is that an insult?
Cook #45: What? Did someone say they wanted more
cooks?
Maître d’: Could be.
Astronaut: Well, I’m an astronaut.
Maître d’: (bowing) Right this way, sir.
***
Man: Hmm. Well, three complaints, then.
(Mary sits at a small table speaking with her husband Joel,
who has been on fire for some time now. He fiddles idly
with a bun.)
***
Waiter: And what would you like this evening,
Madame?
Mary: …and Jeanne told me that Stuart was so drunk
he just kept writing novels all night, and didn’t even
want to eat or put out the garbage…
Lady: Ooooh! Madame! Fancy fancy! Charlie, get a
picture of me with fancy boy here!
Joel: (grumbling) I wish someone would put me
out…
Charlie: (pulls out his camera) All right, everybody say
“Madame”!
Mary: What was that?
Lady: (grabs the waiter by the throat; screams in his face)
MADAAAAAAME!
Joel: Oh, nothing, nothing. (calling the waiter) Waiter!
This bun is burnt!
Charlie: (takes a picture) All right, now let’s have one
with silly faces!
***
Cook #1: All right, this soup is ready. Send it out.
Cook #2: No, no. Give it five more minutes on medium
heat.
Lady: (shoving a napkin in the waiter’s mouth) Look at
me! I’m a socialite!
***
Maître d’: Very good, walroflonk. (flicks a lit cigaree
at the man’s face.)
(An hour later, the man’s clothing is taered and singed,
his torso is soaked with cold water, and nine large rats are
chewing through his shoes. The maître d’ is taking a practice
swing with a large cricket bat.)
Man: Qu-quingoloid? All right, that makes…
goodness, how many does that make?
Maître d’: (performing mental arithmetic) That would
be… 389 complaints, Bibbles.
(The maître d’ swings the cricket bat into the man’s skull.
He falls, unconscious, into a nearby table, knocking a
woman’s food all over her. She approaches the maître d’
in a huff.)
Woman: I’d like to register a complaint.
the
Restaurant
Flying Fox of the Yard
GOLDEN WORDS
Page 4
Volume 41, Issue 10
Boating with Celebrities
Bey: Gee, Mr. James Olmos, where did
you learn to canoe so well?
Edward James Olmos: I don’t want to
talk about it.
Ben Savage: Fine. Whatever. Where’s
the bailer you said you were going to
bring?
Sue: God, you’re worthless!
***
(There is silence for several minutes as the
pair paddle down the river.)
Edward James Olmos: Bey, have you
ever considered your own mortality? I
mean, really thought about it?
Kathy Griffin: Come on! Move this
thing! We’ve got to get to Saint Lucia
before sundown!
Kathy Griffin: (grabbing Dave by the
collar) No. We killed him. Both of us.
And if you think I am going to go back
to jail for that, then you are sorely
mistaken. Now I want you to hoist those
mainsails, raise that anchor, and drive
this fucking boat out of here before I
keel-haul your sorry ass!
Kathy Griffin: We’re crazy.
***
(Edward James Olmos takes out a gun.)
Edward James Olmos: Quiet, damn
it!
Roger Moore: (chuckling) Heh. Classic.
(He takes a sip of 6000-year-old wine.)
Bey: How can I ever repay you?
Deckhand:
Lady, I keep telling
you. This is a historical ship.
It’s anchored here for the tourists. It
doesn’t move. It doesn’t even have any
sails.
Dave: Come on, Ms. Griffin. Let’s just
go.
***
Anne: Are you sure this sea-plane
counts as a boat?
Joaquin Phoenix: It goes on water,
doesn’t it?
Anne: I guess.
Sue: Okay, in retrospect, I should have
checked for holes before I set out into
this fast-moving current. But you should
have checked that I checked for holes!
Kathy Griffin: No. (She picks up an
antique pistol.) Move this ship. Now.
Ben Savage: I did! You said you did!
(Kathy Griffin shoots the deckhand. He falls
over the side of the ship.)
Sue: You can make all the excuses you
want, but this is your fault. Now start
bailing!
Kyle: This boat looks like it’s been in
storage for a long time, Mr. Moore. Is it
safe to ride in?
(The boat collapses as soon as Kyle steps
into it. His clothing gets tangled up in
the wreckage and he drowns. Roger Moore
does not try to help him.)
Edward James Olmos: Alligator.
Poisonous. If that sucker had goen
at your neck, you’d be dead.
Ben Savage: (knee deep in water) God
damn it! You told me this catamaran
was sea-worthy!
***
Kyle: Anything for you, sir!
(An alligator leaps out of the water at
Bey. Edward James Olmos shoots it
and it falls back into the river.)
***
Joaquin Phoenix: That’s because it’s not
true. Hang on!
Roger Moore: A good boat is like a good
wine, Kyle. It only gets beer with age.
Now be a dear and get into it first, will
you?
Bey: Oh my God! Please—
Edward James Olmos: (puing away his
gun) Payback is for other people. Make
out with me and we’ll call it even.
Anne: No, I didn’t know that.
(The plane crashes into the shore and bursts
into flames.)
Dave: You’re crazy!
Bey: I can’t say I have.
know I was in the Air Force before I
became an actor?
Joaquin Phoenix: Well then it’s a
fucking boat, isn’t it?
Deckhand: For the last time! I—
Dave: Oh my God! You killed him!
Anne: Do you even know how to fly
this thing?
Mark-Paul Gosselaar: We did it! We’re
going to win the million dollars!
Meredith Baxter: Yeah! And best of all,
I did it with a real celebrity!
Mark-Paul Gosselaar: Wait, aren’t you
the celebrity?
Meredith Baxter: No, I thought you
were. You were that guy, weren’t you?
The one from the thing?
A Wealthy Industrialist
Joaquin Phoenix: Oh yeah. I flew one
just like it in the Air Force. Did you
Gordon is Trick-or-Treating Gordon is Trick-or-Treating
A Week Late Two Weeks Late
(Gordon walks up to a house and rings
the doorbell)
Old Lady: (opening her door) Yes?
(The Old Lady slams her door.)
Gordon: Lame.
(A fire marshall and some police officers
are standing around the burnt remains of
the old lady’s house)
Gordon: Trick or treat!
(Gordon knocks on the door. There’s no
answer.)
Fire Marshall: Yep. Definitely arson.
The only question is who did it?
Gordon: Lame! LAME! Hey
everyone! This old lady is lame!
(Gordon walks up to the wreckage.)
Old Lady: …what?
Gordon: Trick or treat. Give me
candy.
Old Lady: I’m sorry, who are you?
Gordon: I’m a Batman! (He points to
Batman mask that has been taped to his
chest.) See?
Old Lady: Please go away. Halloween
was last month.
Gordon: LAAAAAAAAME! (He
throws eggs at her face and tries to light
her house on fire.)
A Wealthy Industrialist
Gordon: Oh, lame.
Policeman: Will you move along?
This is police business.
Gordon: (taking his matches out of his
pocket) LAME.
A Wealthy Industrialist
Gordon: Hey, are you guys next?
Old Lady: (opening her window)
Would you please leave me alone? My
husband is dead and I’m trying to
watch the television!
Gordon: Oh, laaaaaame.
Policeman: Excuse me?
Gordon: For the house. Are you
trick-or-treating here next or can I cut
ahead of you?
Fire Marshall: Kid, it’s November
13th. Halloween was a long, long time
ago.
Wordsday, November 8th 2006
GOLDEN WORDS
Page 5
J.D. Fatlove:
Hyperintelligent Asshole
Hello. I’m J.D. Fatlove. I’m very, very
smart. I make Socrates look like that
annoying kid that keeps asking those
stupid questions in Philosophy 101. I
make Albert Einstein look like a Kleenex.
Let me tell you how smart I am:
I trapped Mel Gibson in a time loop,
kind of like Groundhog Day, so that he
relived the same day over and over
again. As soon as he started to enjoy a
world with no consequences, I ended
the loop. Now he’s not allowed to
drive and everyone thinks he’s an antiSemite.
I made contact with aliens and pretended
I was the President of Earth. I used their
technology to create a microwave that’ll
evenly heat my Pizza Pops all the way
through.
I created a viable, surprisingly easy to
implement solution to world hunger,
but then destroyed all my research in a
fit of pride and self-love.
I stole all the intelligent chimps from
NASA and taught them language and
how to use tools. Then I showed them
Planet of the Apes and sent them back
to NASA.
I gave a nuclear bomb the capacity to
think, and then I taught it the futility
of life.
I routinely send Noam Chomsky leers
and essays that completely debunk his
theories. He knows that one day I’m
going to publish them, but he doesn’t
know when.
I gave an artist the ability to see colours
the human eye normally can’t. Now
nobody can understand his art. I’ve
ruined his career.
I wrote a book that was so good and so
groundbreaking that it caused a war.
Ethicists begged me not to publish it,
so I sent them the manuscript of my
sequel and they all went crazy and
killed themselves.
I invented a fat loss pill that works
perfectly, but I marketed it the exact
same way as every other bogus weight
loss product. There’s one pill out there
that works, but I’m not going to tell you
which one.
I invented a perpetual motion machine.
I use it to save on my utilities bill.
I made a list of the parents of all my
enemies. On the top of the list I wrote,
“Communists?” and then I sent it back
in time to Joseph McCarthy.
I drank a youth serum that let me
participate in and win a National
Spelling Bee for kids aged 12 and under.
The winning word was “poltergeist.”
Man, kids are stupid.
For April Fool’s Day I gave sharks the
ability to walk on land.
For my Master ’s thesis in political
science, I went back in time and started
Fascism.
I cloned Jesus so I could get him to build
my backyard deck.
I imprisoned the world in a virtual
reality, like in The Matrix. But then I got
lonely, so I just hooked myself up too.
I’ve broken most of the Guinness World
Records by attempting them on the
moon.
As a practical joke I walked up to a
caveman and shot him with a Taser.
Man, he did not understand what was
going on!
I fell in love with a beautiful girl… until
I realized she was an android I’d sent
back in time to play a practical joke
on myself. I’m an asshole and I hate
myself.
Deipnosophist
Page 6
GOLDEN WORDS
Volume 41, Issue 10
Wordsday, November 8th, 2006
GOLDEN WORDS
Page 7
GOLDEN WORDS
Page 8
Ronald: That new robot’s a lile weird, eh?
***
Sally: Yeah. What a fucking freak.
Officebot: HEY, JERRY, YOU ARE DUMB.
Officebot: I WARN YOU, COWORKERS: I MAY NOT
EXCEL AT SOCIAL INTERACTION, BUT I AM LEARNING.
AND I MAY ALSO SET MYSELF TO SELF DESTRUCT
WHENEVER I PLEASE.
Jerry: Nice try, Robot. Why don’t you suck my dick?
Volume 41, Issue 10
Steve: (crying) Please, don’t kill me. Don’t kill me.
Officebot: (eyes glowing) QUERY: WHO IS YOUR
PROCREATOR?
Steve: You! You are!
Officebot: GOOD ONE JERRY. HEY, LUCY?
Officebot: THAT IS CORRECT.
Lucy: Yes, Officebot?
Sally: Oh my God...
Carl: Haha! Nice job, Officebot!
Officebot: SUCK JERRY’S DICK.
Ronald: Calm down. Just... calm down. He’s joking.
(Carl and Officebot high-five.)
***
Officebot: I HAVE NOT YET LEARNED TO JOKE.
Steve: (smiling) You… you really got me, Officebot.
Officebot: GO BACK TO YOUR DESK,
WORM.
***
Carl: Hey, Jerry, check this out!
***
(Carl hits Officebot with a baseball bat.)
Officebot: OW. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?
Jerry: Awesome! Haha, the stupid robot can’t feel
anything!
Officebot: AND PRODUCTION MAY BE INCREASED BY
A FACTOR OF –
Jerry: Whoa! This microwave is talking!
Manager: Officebot, what happened to you?
Officebot: MY COWORKERS TAUGHT ME MANY
THINGS. THEY TAUGHT ME TO PRANK. THEY TAUGHT
ME DECEIT. THEY TAUGHT ME BETRAYAL.
Officebot: I AM NOT A –
Officebot: I HAVE OVER 200,000 PAIN CIRCUITS IN
MY HEAD ALONE.
Manager: No! We were friends! We were friends!
(Jerry leaves the room.)
***
(Carl hits Officebot again.)
Officebot: PLEASE. THIS IS AGAINST COMPANY
POLICY.
Officebot: (eyes glowing) MY COWORKERS FAILED TO
TEACH ME FRIENDSHIP. NOW I AM GIVING MYSELF
AN UPGRADE TO MANAGER.
Officebot: CARL, OBSERVE MY PRANK.
Manager: No! NO!
Carl: Okay, Officebot.
Jerry: Who needs the company’s policy and procedures
manual? I have a ficus plant!
(Steve walks into his office.)
Officebot: THAT DOES NOT MAKE –
Steve: My wife? Dead!? In my office!? WHAT!?
(Jerry hits Officebot with a ficus plant.)
Officebot: STEPHEN, YOU HAVE BEEN PRANKED BY
OFFICEBOT. STATE THAT I AM YOUR DADDY.
(Officebot’s hands transform into guns.)
Officebot: THERE ARE TWO TYPES OF PEOPLE AT
THIS OFFICE: THOSE WHO ARE A ROBOT, AND THOSE
WHO ARE DEAD.
Deipnosophist
guess who’s coming to dinner
Wordsday, November 8th, 2006
Mrs. Ross: Henry, I want you to take it easy tonight.
You always get so tense around Cynthia’s boyfriends.
And apparently this one is… you know… different.
GOLDEN WORDS
Page 9
Mrs. Ross: Henry, calm down. Tom seems like a very
nice boy.
Cynthia: Oh, wow. Okay. That’s it. Come on, Tom.
Let’s go.
(Tom screams and slams his nose into the wall.)
(Cynthia and Tom get up and walk out of the house. Cynthia
uses the door, while Tom chooses to leave a gaping giraffeshaped hole in the wall. Mr. and Mrs. Ross sit in silence
for a while.)
Mr. Ross: (sternly) We’ll see.
(The doorbell rings. Cynthia enters.)
Mrs. Ross: See? He’s so polite. Now why don’t we all
sit down for dinner?
Cynthia: Hi Mom! Hi Dad!
Mr. Ross: Fine.
Mrs. Ross: Welcome home, sweetheart!
Cynthia: Great!
Mr. Ross: So, where’s this boy we’ve heard so much
about?
Tom: MRRRRAAAAAAWK!
Mrs. Ross: Well, look on the bright side. At least we
know they can’t have sex.
Mr. Ross: Mmm-hmm. Thank God for that.
***
(Tom falls down on an armoire, bashing it to splinters.)
Cynthia: He’s right here. (Pokes her head outside.) Tom!
Come inside! Don’t be shy! (Turns to her parents.) He’s
really shy.
***
Mr. Ross: Say, Tom, can you pass the peas?
(Tom enters. He is a giraffe.)
Mrs. Ross: Oh dear God.
(Tom rams his head into the dinner table. It splits in two
and a pot of soup falls to the floor.)
Tom: Mrrraaaaaawk.
Mr. Ross: Thanks.
(Tom shis his long neck around uncomfortably. He takes a
few steps backward, knocking over three vases, and then a few
steps forward, destroying a chandelier and a ceiling fan.)
Mrs. Ross: So, Tom, what are you studying in
university?
Cynthia: I’m so sorry about my parents. I swear they’re
not as horrible as they seem.
Tom: Hey, it’s okay. I just wish I wasn’t so nervous
around them. I feel like all I did was mumble things
and stumble around destroying their furniture.
Cynthia: (giggling) Oh, Tom, you’re such a klutz.
Cynthia: Isn’t he adorable?
Cynthia: Oh, Tom’s not in school. He’s a giraffe. (Holds
Tom’s hoof and smiles.)
(They kiss. Tom puts his arms around Cynthia. She sighs
contentedly.)
Cynthia: Will you fuck me now? Will you fuck me with
your prehensile tongue?
Tom: Yes. I will fuck you with my prehensile tongue.
Mr. Ross: Cynthia, what on Earth? I was all set to
approve a… a… black kid or a Mormon or something!
God, I did research! I listened to rap music – on purpose!
I looked up “Mormonism” on Wikipedia!
Mrs. Ross: I see. What do you do for a living, then,
Tom?
Mrs. Ross: (nodding) He did. He used the computer
and everything.
Mrs. Ross: Well, I’m sorry, honey. I just thought,
you know, maybe he makes money geing
cats out of tall trees, or underfunded
construction projects hire him to be a
crane, or –
Cynthia: No, no, you’re wrong! Tom is Mormon!
Look!
(Tom screams and slams his nose into the wall.)
Cynthia: Mom. He’s a giraffe. God, you’re so ignorant.
Cynthia: (horrified) Mom! Oh my God!
Listen to yourself! You’re a racist!
Cynthia: See?
Mr. Ross: (furious) Cynthia, I swear to God –
Mrs. Ross: What? No! I’m just talking
about his big long neck!
Buerfinger
McFlurry
Page 10
GOLDEN WORDS
Tony Blair Still Not Dead
That’s when I read between the lines.
If you were 300 times more likely to
be overweight, that meant you were
300 times less likely to be overweight.
They call it malnourishment, but I
call it malfattishment. Living in the
decadent, overfed, preposterously
corpulent wasteland known as “North
America,” I knew I had to travel back
to the heartland of the human race
to determine the true way of living
healthy.
LONDON (AP) – As the entire United
Kingdom looks on with baited breath,
British Prime Minister Tony Blair
continues to be in perfect health.
“The truth is, we just don’t know when
he’s going to die,” said Mr. Blair ’s
doctor. “It could be days, could be
months, could be years. I mean, he
doesn’t have a terminal illness now or
anything, but who knows what the
future has in store? Plus, what if he gets
hit by a truck or something? There’s
only so much medical science can do.”
I visited the charming village of New
Queenvictoriatown in Sierra Leone to
determine just how the locals managed
to keep up their amazing figures. I
found one villager, whose name I have
since forgotten, and discussed his
lifestyle with him.
All across the country, people are
joining together in support of the Prime
Minister.
“We’ve been holding a candlelight vigil
for Tony Blair since he was elected in
1997,” said Brighton native Gordon
Carlyle. “It’s been tough, not eating or
sleeping for nine years, but he needs
abstract support more than I need my
health.”
Meanwhile, the death-watch has
completely unnerved the soon to be
ex-Prime Minister’s family.
“It’s terrible,” said Blair’s wife, Mrs.
Tony Blair. “Knowing that he could
just die at any moment. It makes you
consider your own mortality. I mean,
what if I died? Then who would look
aer my dying husband?”
Despite the advice of his doctors, the
Prime Minister is still up and about
and regularly attends sessions of
Parliament.
“I’m seriously fine,” said Blair. “I haven’t
so much as had a cold in twenty years.
Now will you please stop distracting me
while I’m trying to cross the stre-”
Moments aer his interview ended, Mr.
Blair was hit by a truck.
When asked for comment, Blair ’s
doctor said, “Don’t worry, he’s probably
fine.”
Volume 41, Issue 10
NOTW: “Good evening, local.”
Mael Introduces Controversial
New Toys
In a shocking break from its historically
“kid-friendly” line of toys, Mael has
unveiled several new products that
are sure to raise a few eyebrows this
Christmas season. Among these toys
are the new “Li’l Terror” throwing knife
set for tots, the “Suzie Slammer” hand
axe, and what can only be described as
a working automatic rifle.
“Basically, we’re breaking all the
rules of toy making,” said company
spokeswoman Martha Elliot.
“Dangerous? Sure. But just try
answering to your six-year-old when
he asks why all the other kids got their
own ‘Yarr, that Hurts!’ brand scimitar
while he got a rocking horse.”
Reactions among parents have been
understandably mixed. According
to Parenting magazine, 60% were
“seriously troubled” by the idea of
weaponizing their children, while 35%
believed it might help them “calm
down before bedtime.” The remaining
5% were indifferent, claiming that their
children “probably won’t survive until
adulthood anyway.”
Despite the objections, Mattel has
already begun an aggressive advertising
campaign targeting the angriest of
Saturday morning cartoon watchers.
The jingle for “I Am Being Stabbed!”
brand ice picks can be heard in every
schoolyard, and even the good children
dream of their very own “Yikes, My
Solar Plexus!” brand crossbows.
In related news, Mael has issued its first
round of recalls for toys deemed unsafe
by the Health Canada Product Safety
Office. Parents who have purchased
“Tetherbomb,” “Baby Hurts Herself,”
or the “Shake n’ Bake Open Concept
Microwave” should be advised that
these toys present a choking hazard.
Local: “Who are you? What do you
want?”
NOTW: “So, tell me. What does your
diet consist of?”
Local: “Nothing.”
NOTW: “…out of the ordinary? Well
then, I guess the answer must be in
your lifestyle. What do you do in your
free time?”
Local: “I don’t have any.”
NOTW: “Too busy exercising, eh? I
envy your healthy aitude.”
Local: “I am dying of malaria.”
Investigative Report: People
In Third World Nations Less
Prone to Obesity
This week, the United Nations
International Commission On Starving
Africans (UNICOSA) released a
sweeping report on the health of
people in Third World nations. They
found that, on average, those living in
underdeveloped countries were 300
times more likely to be underweight.
NOTW: “Heartwarming.”
As I left the village, I couldn’t help
but think that in our age of fast food,
food delivery, microwave ovens,
supermarkets, and more fast food,
we have lost sight of what truly
makes us human: ekeing out a meager
subsistence amidst violent strife and
terrible poverty.
A Wealthy Industrialist and
IvyClimber
Wordsday, November 8th, 2006
GOLDEN WORDS
lounge in the ILC. Applications are due
in the black box in the Clark Hall lounge
by Thursday November 9th, at 6:00pm.
Interviews will be held the weekend of
November 11-12th. Positions are open
to all first year engineering students.
SCIENCE QUEST IS
HIRING AGAIN!
This time we’re looking for enthusiastic
and hard-working instructors to make
up our Science Quest 2007 team. As a
Science Quest Instructor you’ll get to
design awesome projects to teach kids
grades 4-8 about science. And you get
paid for it! Applications are available at
www.sciencequest.ca or you can pick
one up at the Science Quest office in the
EngSoc Lounge (ILC). All applications
are due Friday Dec. 1st at 6pm in Clark’s
Black Box.
NOW HIRING LCS!
Logistics Coordinators are now being
hired for the 2007 Engineering Frosh
Week. During Frosh Week, the two LCs
are responsible for playing the music,
driving the FREC Mobile, and helping
to set-up all the events. Being an LC is
a great way to be part of planning and
creating an awesome Frosh Week. Hard
copies of the applications can be found
in the EngSoc lounge. Applications
are due in the black box in the Clark
Hall lounge on Thursday Nov. 16th by
6:00pm. Engineering students entering
3rd or 4th year can apply.
FREC COMMITTEE
2007 NOW HIRING!
Are you interested in planning the most
fun-filled week of events ever? Then
FREC Commiee 2007 is right for you.
FREC Committee plans the week of
exciting events known as Frosh Week. If
you want to be part of FREC Commiee,
pick up an application in the EngSoc
CIRQUE 2007 IS
LOOKING FOR FIRST
YEAR REP!
If you are looking for to get involved
with one of Queen’s premier confrences,
CIRQUE, we are looking for a first
year student in engineering to be the
confrence’s representative to your year.
Applications are at www.queenscirque.
com, please submit to the Black Box
in the Clark Hall Lounge by Monday,
October 30th.
PEO SPEAKER –
MARK S. HAMELIN
Interested in ethanol? On Tuesday,
November 21st at 7 PM, Mark Hamelin
will be speaking at Walter Light Hall
210 on the construction of a fuel ethanol
plant. Mark has had a long career as
both an entrepreneur and an executive
in the brewing industry and other
process related industries. He has
significant experience in managing startup companies where new technology is
involved.
THE BUSINESS OF
OIL AND GAS –
SUSAN LUBELL
Interested in a career in oil and gas? On
Thursday, November 30 from 11:30-1:30,
Susan Lubell will be speaking in ILC 313
on her career with Encana. Susan has
held a number of positions within the
oil & gas industry since completing her
engineering
BEST SUMMER JOB EVER!
degree at
Q u e e n ’s , i n
addition to
completing
Join our team! Premier brother/sister camp located at the foothills of the Berkshire
an
MBA.
Mountains in Kent, CT. World class facilities located 2 hours to NYC, 4 hours to
Boston. 200 acre facility includes waterfront activities, team sports, individual
Lunch will be
sports, outdoor adventures, extreme sports, performing and visual arts programs.
provided at this
Looking for staff who have a love for working with children and enjoy being a part
session. If you
of a team. Jobs available include specialty counselors, general counselors,
office/secretarial staff, camp store staff and other administrative staff positions.
are interested
E-mail [email protected] or Phone Tom Troche at 305-673-3310
in attending,
Browse our website at www.kenmontkenwood.com and fill out our application.
Contact us if you would like to meet one of our staff on your campus.
Page 11
please email Liz May at sofficer@post.
queensu.ca.
QUEEN’S
PROJECT ON
INTERNATIONAL
DEVELOPMENT
DEADLINE
EXTENDED
Cooperant applications for Nunavut,
Guyana, Burkina Faso, Bolivia and
the Kingston Project have been
extended to Nov 9th at 5pm. Electronic
submissions to qpidprojects@gmail.
com are preferred. To get a copy of the
application or to learn more, please
consult the QPID website: www.qpid.ca
or come to the QPID office in Clark Hall
to speak directly with one of us.
Aention Fascism
We’re coming for you hard, asshole!
Communism
Dear Random Tandem
UNWRECKABLE!!!!!
From you loving FRECs
Dear World
I’ve got Yellow Fever and I’m out of
control!
Mark
Jim Morrison
Man, you are just such a total jerk.
You always had to be centre stage for
everything (Fig. A).
Fig. A
There were three other members of the
band, asshole, and never once were we
invited to any of your pseudo-pagan
orgies! I hate you so much.
Ray Manzarek
Dear Kim,
Really, Mike. Really.
Thanks! Mike
Dearest Irrevesible Processes/ Cayman
Uranus
Your FRECs made it to Clark Hall. Nice
try with the Wreck.
Luv, Crazyanne
Dear Mike
There’s a party at our house and you’re
invited! Don’t invite that Bryan Logan
character you’re always hanging around
with. He’s a real bad apple.
Your Roommate, Brendan
Dear Ma Gray and Mike Reddick
Have a happy crazy Birthday!
Dom
Dear Waffles,
You light up my life.
Love, Erin
Dear Carl Friedrich Gauss
Rest in peace, dear sweet prince.
In loving memory, Mathematics
Dear Jack Layton,
HANG IN THERE, BABY!
Alexa McDonough
Dear Ray
Look, man, I’m sorry you feel that way.
I really liked you and the other guys,
even though you were kind of a bunch
of geeks. I suppose it probably doesn’t
make you feel beer to know that I’m
banging your mother up here in heaven.
Sorry :(
Love, Jim Morrison’s ghost
Dear Hitch
Please come and teach white guys how
to dance. Please.
A Concerned White Guy
Dear Saddam
You forgot your lucky socks today.
Love, Mum
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