Issue 19.4

PRICE: PRICE BABY

WashU to Move Seigle Hall Three Inches to the Left

The revolution is finally upon us.

Moving Forward. Transformation. Here and Next. These are all words to describe the trajectory WashU has been taking in the last few years. Seeing as the university is at the forefront of science, arts, and culture (by Midwestern standards), the administration of this great institution has its sights set on progress. And Chancellor Andrew Martin, champion of the people, has recently announced the next great leap in progress: moving Seigle Hall three inches to the left.

In a recent press conference, Martin announced the project, stating, “Moving Seigle Hall three inches to the left will redefine the way space is seen on campus. What was once an antiquated and oppressive collection of buildings will soon become a contemporary utopia of happiness and equality.” When questioned on his reasoning, Martin crinkled some paper in front of the microphone, and claimed that he was “going through a tunnel” and “breaking up”. Shortly after, he scampered away.

WUnderground reached out to Provost Beverly Wendland for comment, and after learning that her first name was not, in fact, “Provost”, we sat down with “Beverly” to discuss the new project. “The name of the game is progress”, said Wendland, “and that is absolutely worth the effort it will take to move Seigle Hall three inches to the left. Will this project come with a massive tuition increase? Will we have to move all the Arts and Sciences classes to the Eastgate Taco Bell parking lot? Do we still need to un-flood the basement of Lopata House? The answer to all these questions, of course, is yes. But according to the admissions department,

LATERAL MOVE

WashU is a supportive community, so I know the student body will understand the importance of these changes, and the sacrifice they require.” Wendland then proceeded to stand up, salute, and sing the WashU alma mater, which is apparently a thing we have. Stay tuned for updates on this still developing story.

--UPDATE 1: Early reports say that the remaining three inches of space created by the move will be shared by the various fraternities on campus. Said an IFC representative, “Three inches is more than enough”

Study finds Poll Everywhere Questions Not To Be Answered Everywhere

WRIGHTON 300

Last semester, freshman Isaac Weizenbaum was baffled when he received an email accusing him of an academic integrity violation after completing his Chem 111A clicker questions.

“Everywhere. It’s literally in the name. Poll Everywhere. Since when is the first floor of Dardick not a place? Make it make sense,” says Isaac, who was doing his laundry at the time of the incident.

“Where is the diversity of representation? You can’t say

that only people in Wrighton 300 have a voice–It’s like how WashU claims to represent all 50 states and more than 100 countries but everyone in SU is from the Bay Area.”

Isaac, a premed student majoring in Political Science, continued on to say something about taxation without representation or consent of the governed or something our reporters don’t remember from high school history class because we were all popular.

“I could ask my friend Mark who’s in class to log in for me and

do the polls, but that just feels cheap. If someone’s gonna submit aimless guesses without knowing what the question is asking, I’d rather it’d be me.”

We also interviewed sophomore Mia Chen, who says she is facing similar allegations after answering a poll question that her professor told everyone not to answer so that they could catch those voting from elsewhere:

“I was in class, I was just wearing headphones. How am I supposed to be a mysterious Pinterest girl if my professors won’t let me wear my Sony WH-1000XM4s? It’s not my fault Suki Waterhouse contributes more to my personal development than St. Louis dot structures or whatever they’re called. At least getting suspended might make me seem like more of an enigma.”

We reached out to the professors of Chem 111A in response to these events and reminded them that, due to the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, students exist everywhere and nowhere at once. Outsmarted again, they declined to comment.

Abstinence: Why Keep Your Fly Sky-High

It's February, which means it's officially purity month! Before President's day when we'll get around to the racial kind, we should take a moment around Valentine's Day to remind ourselves of the importance of not only sexual, but spiritual purity. Since you're reading this we're probably just preaching to the choir, but anyways here's 6 reasons to prevent the Devil's wishes from tantalizing your loins.

1. You can get the same rush from killing a man.

4. You should save yourself for your loveless third marriage.

WUnderground is WashU’s premier (only) satirical newspaper and should be taken about as seriously as the round-earthers.

The news reported by this paper is fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living, ailing or dead is entirely intentional.

OVERLORDS

Rusty Dagon

Anna Sheriff

Benjamin Orlinick

Abbey Rose

2. You might have a baby and it will be ugly.

5. God told WUnderground to tell me to tell you that it's a sin.

3. I once knew someone who had [REDACTED] and I never heard from them again.

6. Just kidding! You should totally go do whatever you want I don't care! (I'm using reverse psychology).

OBITUARIES

LOPATA HOUSE

Hulk the Second from Lopata House, The Village, passed away on Tuesday, January 24, 2023. He was one month and seventeen days old.

Hulk was hatched from his aquatic egg sack in early December. At least, his owners hope so. Otherwise, he sat in that shit-filled Petco fish tank way longer than any creature of Mother Earth’s bosom should.

Hulk had the soul of a reincarnated Vietnam War Vet, so we didn’t like to breach the topic of political views with him. Alas, he was an avid reader of the Danforth Dispatch article titles. In his spare time, Hulk liked to brood and watch the world burn, blowing bubbles in his Pirates-of-the-Carribean-themed fish tank like cigar smoke.

Owners Sara (from the Bay Area; no H) and Ella (from Westchester; two Ls) watched Hulk die on that fateful Tuesday. They played “All Too Well”, Taylor’s ten minute version, on loop, claiming that “this was Hulky’s favorite song”. Counterpoint from Jack Lu from across the hall in Lopata 3010: Taylor was Hulk’s 13th reason.

Sara and Ella have another roommate, Tina, who was not an official owner of Hulk. Tina is in EST, and insisted on performing mouth-to-mouth

resuscitation on Hulk the Second as he died. However, we all know that Hulk would have been in favor of DNRs, and thus, Sara and Ella concluded to deny the motion. They were kinda disturbed by how upset that made Tina… they did not like the way she was staring at Hulk’s pouty trout lips. Tina suggested they hold an open-casket funeral for Hulk.

Hulk the Second was flushed down the toilet in the private stall in the basement of Olin (all my poop-shy people know where that is) on October 20th, 2022. Lu said that the corpse smell was unbearable, and that he

would have called the RA if the flush funeral got pushed back another day. When the smell did not go away after the funeral, all three women and Lu filed a separate report together. WUPD has yet to investigate.

May the fishy memory of our favorite angry Betta fish live on, at least half as long as Whisper’s Key Lime Pie yogurts sit in their semirefrigerated shelving units.

Abby Baird

Ashna Ramiah

LAYOUT WIZARDS UNDERLORDS

Shira Aronow

Sam Auditore

Sammie Axelbaum

Abby Baird

Harry Campbell

Riley Card

Neil Chavan

Chirag Choudhary

Ruby Cover

Margaret Dresselhuys

Sara Frankenthaler

Noah Gluck

Eylul Horozoglu

Adam Kirsch

Solly Lerman

Will LeVan

Ella Majd

Peter Michalski

Will Palmer

Rida Qureshi

Ashna Ramiah

Celia Rattner

Sydney Rothschild

London Wharton

Annual Letter from Your Midwestern Grandma

Dearest Eldest (or Blondest) Grandchild, Seasonal greetings from [Insert region that begins with “Central”]. I rarely get to see you because your heretical parents keep you from me, and apparently, your generation does not “do” telegrams. As such, I will tell you about my year–2022–in extreme detail in this letter for your perusing. Be prepared to put on your +10x reading glasses for this second-t0second insight into your dearest 39-year-old (ha ha) Grandma’s life.

On January 1st, 2022, I slept w ell despite some back pain from my recent surgery. Nevertheless, I woke up on January 2nd determined to clean my house! Low and behold, I found five unopened extra-large boxes of kitty-litter in your late step-grandfathers spare closet next to his nickel collection that I won’t let his birth-children inherit. Who would have thought!

Unfortunately, on January 3rd, I found the cat dead. Seemingly, someone had shut the door to an adjacent closet behind him, locking him in, and seeing that no one has been in my house besides me since 2006, I suppose this incident was my doing. Oh well; better him than me, not that your parents would notice. For the next month, I opened every closet and cleaned. No, there were no

more cats I forgot about, just a small troll that perished (ha ha). As you know, I am an artisté. I do plentiful work with the community center and church.

On February 3rd, I was pleased to attend the 1,000th meeting of the Floozy Femmes of Needle Point, where snitches get extra stitches (ha ha). We are working on our marketing post-revolution of the World Wide Web. Speaking of, I watched the Social Network on February 21st. You should find a nice man like Mark to take care of you; he has a rugged way with words, and I bet he goes to church.

Of course, March and April were the months of doctors appointments. I made sure to let the surgeons know I was part of the Floozy Femmes of Needle Point, but they were not as impressed with my work with a needle as their own. Lots of stitches, but very few snitches unfortunately, mostly because you do not return my telegrams damning your parents. When you’re older, we’ll discuss surgeon needles more.

In May and June, I was feeling well enough for a road trip. I rented a vehicle with some ladies and traveled from [Insert region that begins with “Central”] to [Insert region that begins with “Central” that is at least 36 hours by car from the previous region]. Why suffer Gilly’s irritated bowels on the road for that long, you ask? For Dead and Company, of course,

and all the Waffle Houses along the way. Your Grammy is a fun time (ha ha ha).

I visited my 120-year-old Grandma in Georgia for Independence Day. We ate our traditional barbecue [picture roadkill with a lot of brown barbecue sauce]. I hauled booty out of there before August heat hit. It had nothing to do with the unwarranted Church-Lady criticism I faced from my own flesh-and-blood…

[For publishing purposes, WUnderground has chosen to redact ten more pages explaining the crisp Fall Apple Season that Grandma enjoyed so deeply]

…And with that, my little angel-bug-sweet-cake, I leave you with a prayer for your consideration:

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name

Give us this day our daily bread and spirits,

And forgive us our highly judgemental trespasses into the personal privacy of others,

And watch closely upon us, but not too closely, especially not in the liquor cabinet

Or the drawer next to my bed, And forgive my grandchild’s dear parents for being worshippers of Satan, or worse, a Jewish g-d, Lord knows they need it. Amen.

I love you bunches, my Eldest (or Blondest) Grandchild, Grandma

Little Asshole Thinks He’s Something Special

Well, if it isn’t the belle of the ball.

In a stunning display of injustice, Mom and Dad–I mean someone else’s mom and dad–have lowered their standards for praise. Now, and here is the kicker, they haven’t lowered their standards for me, just my– I mean someone

else’s–little brother.

What’s that thing called again when someone has two separate sets of standards for different people? This reporter is having a hard time remembering.

Last Friday, little Rutherford overcame the gravitational challenges of his 18th century name and his fat fuck head to stumble 4 steps before collapsing under the weight of his own athletic magnificence. I mean, what a journey. Thank God my parents were there to shower him in positive reinforcement because without it

I’m unsure if the kid with the

object permanence of a pineapple would internalize how far he advanced civilization. These parents probably never heard the end of Neil Armstrong’s famous quote because they were applauding too loud after he said, “That’s one small step”. What about this kid’s brother? Isn’t he walking to and from scary classes all day where smart people talk about important topics like projecting and narcissism? No, in a tragedy akin to a thousand 9/11s, all someone else’s mom talks about is how excited she is to have the joyful pitter patter of little feet in her home while ignoring how brave her big boy is.

"BROTHERHOOD,

"They wanna be us soooooo bad"

Prefers men

"When women got the right to vote is when it all went downhill."

"Logan was the cutest, but he just couldn’t work the stage like Kendall, and neither of them have James’s charisma."

BITCH!"

Point: Pikers is a good name for an acapella group.

I

Counterpoint: My 13 year old brother named his band that by combining every slur he knows.

Duck, Duck, Canada Goose: How to Spot Which Students Will Overpay for Your Shitty Weed

Instagram - if they have any pictures from rooftop bars in Manhattan, they’re loaded and just smoking to look cool; slide in those DMs.

Management 101 - Keep an eye out for any Armani suits. Actually, you can just keep an ear out. They will bring it up.

Wallace Garage - This is one of the easiest ways to pick up customers: just slip your Telegram @ on the windshields of any Teslas, BMWs, or G-Wagons you see. Any teenager driving something that costs more than your tuition won’t miss that extra 40$/gram.

Greek Life - no worldly person with half a brain would want to claim affiliation with Greek Life at WashU, plus, you get to scam preda-

tors. This is a fantastic way to do your part to bring down the 1%.

Stanley’s - look out for which students pick up a Dragon roll every day. You know they’re on the platinum meal plan; they might as well feed you, too. And even though your shit sucks, it’ll still probably make that Midwest sushi taste better, so it’s a real win-win.

And remember, if some San Francisco snob tries to ask what strain you’re pedaling, just spit out some color + celestial object + food item. It’s blue jupiter mochi, now pay up and quit acting like you don’t vacation in the Swiss Alps every summer.