Issuu

APRIL 2022

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[ Mario’s rant ]

Mario’s Rant Wowee, another year, another Stolen Toike, another Mario’s Rant! Except long gone are the days where Mario would actually rant. Over the past some-odd years, this has changed to be a couple of pages of thankyous and reflections on all of the good this community has to offer. However, I am not much of a wordsmith, and I don’t think I have any sage wisdom to impart before I go. I’m not a very gushy person, but if you’ll humour me, allow me to sum up my feelings towards a community I fell in love with 5 years ago. Skule is truly a bizarre and beautiful microcosm and I hope you never forget that. Often one can get caught up in the stressful day-to-day activities, or get fixated on the numerous issues within Skule, but if there’s one thing I’ve realised now at the end of my time here, it is that there will never be another Skule in my life. Never again will I drunkenly run around at 4 am firing a Cannon, crash a dinner dance, or hop on a bus to go drink some rural bar dry. While those may be some extreme examples, I too will also never again complain about problem sets with my friends, pull all-nighters to complete course projects with my friends, or skip class to hang out in the pit with my friends. What I’m getting at here, is it is not just the wacky events and goings-on of Skule that makes it Skule, it is the people of Skule that makes it Skule. I am not exaggerating when I say this community has changed me forever. The young F!rosho who came here that dewy September morning all those years ago, was overwhelmed by the purple upper years, amazed at the passion of this community, and proud of this place I would soon call my home. Between the Bnad’s audacious appearances, 1

the Cannon’s deafening roar, the BFC’s shady hijinks, and a student-run bar, I thought “wtf, is this allowed?”. I soon came to realise that the answer is no, most of it is not allowed. The only reason it happens, however, is because there are students, alumni, and (some) faculty, who truly believe in this community, and want to see it thrive. There is no one person who can take responsibility for Skule’s greatness (okay, except maybe Rhonda), rather, it’s the collective efforts of the people who are currently here, and the many people who were here before us. Thankfully I haven’t noticed it in several years, however, there was once upon a time in Skule where a significant portion of the community would be “jaded” (people loved to throw that word around, however, what I think they actually meant was “bitter”) towards certain organisations. The Trinity, Design Teams, Eng Soc, Skule Nite, B&G, Suds, The Toike, and many others. Pick whichever you like and you could find someone in the pit at any given time that would love to talk to you at length about all the reasons that you are wrong and naïve for liking them, and why you should, in fact, hate them. Maybe it took a global pandemic for us to realise what we took for granted, or maybe Skule is just becoming a kinder place, but the atmosphere around here has noticeably changed for the better. The spirit, brilliance, and (my personal favourite) mischief I have seen this year from the 2T4s and 2T5s is incredibly inspiring and gives me hope that Skule is on its way to becoming the best version of itself.

[ Mario’s rant ]

Mario’s Rant I only ask that if you ever find yourself becoming disgruntled towards anything within Skule, take a step back, recognize the absurdity of this whole thing, and work to solve the issues. As someone who has been down that road, I know it is all too easy to harbour resentment rather than to work towards improvement. Do not tear down the efforts of others. Leave this place better than you found it.

time. However, despite all of the roadblocks and unexpected issues, I am amazed at the tenacity and resolve the people of Skule have shown. Thank you Skule. To everyone I have ever met, to everyone I have not had the privilege to meet, thank you. You are the reason that I am here today, and I would not trade this time in my life for the world.

As I leave I want to thank everyone. This year has been a transitory one as we try and return to what once was. I have seen and felt the frustration as many groups on campus try and navigate this weird “in-between”

Forever yours, Mario Baker 2T1-2T2 Newark, New Jersey A.K.A. The Minister of Nautical Nonsense

Skule, I love you.

[ Ass’s rant ]

Ass’s Rant Whoa, the year is done? And you want a rant? To be honest with you, I’m already ranted out (as anyone who’s spoken to me in the last 4 months probably knows). I can’t say I don’t feel ready to peace out and see what the next step of life has to offer, but I know I wouldn’t be where I am today or who I am today without this community, so instead of ranting, I get to reminisce. Skule really has been a second home these past 5 years, filled with incredible people and traditions. There are too many good memories to share them all, from Track One common room shenanigans, to Bnad crashings at all hours of the day, to honouring, respecting and protecting the Cannon, to late night (early morning, let’s be real) B&G or BFC builds, to drunk nights at SUDS, to that fish that sprayed people with water in the pit, to dinner dances, Toike events, Skule Nite, Frosh Week, Godiva Week, Iron Ring - all of these memories I cherish so deeply. I am beyond grateful that I got to experience these things, let alone experience them with some of the best human beings I have ever met in my life. Don’t get me wrong though, school can also be stressful as fuck. I have vague memories of emerging from the pit/lab/library in the wee hours of the morning after finishing this or that assignment. It’s been a struggle at times to keep up and stay on top of everything that needs to be done. But for everytime school wasn’t cooperating, Skule was always there for me. Whether it be an event providing a few hours of complete distraction from reality or just a friendly face in the pit telling me that we can get through it, Skule helped me keep my head above water 3

when school wanted to drown me. There are times as well when Skule also becomes stressful. It’s not hard to see why people become “salty”, but I encourage you to not get caught up in it all. If you take a step back and look at the thing as a whole, I think you can see Skule for what it really is and that’s an incredibly unique community of people who are trying to help each other out and enrich each other’s lives through activities and traditions and fun and silliness and friendship.

[ Ass’s rant ]

Ass’s Rant The pandemic changed all of our lives in ways that are difficult to express. It was a very different school/Skule I returned to after the pandemic/PEY and at the same time, it wasn’t. Things are constantly changing and though it seems like we only have a fraction of control over the world, we can choose everyday to be kinder and more understanding people. We can accept things as they come and embrace each and every moment of our time here with the attention it deserves. Skule seems to be off to a good start with this.

people, anything is possible. Skule is the culmination of countless hours of hard work from countless people, both in positions of leadership and not. I value every single little contribution that anyone makes to this community as we are all part of one bigger whole. It is true when people say the people make the place. Though our buildings might not be beautiful, our community truly is.

I am beyond grateful for the sense of connection I’ve fostered here, for all the people I’ve met and have yet to meet, and for the lessons I’ve learned over the past 5 years. Before I was even a frosh, I remember at- Skule, you will always hold a piece of my tending prefrosh, seeing the Bnad crash, the heart. Thank you endlessly! Cannon fire, and those weird floating blue hardhats and thinking, “how is any of this With love and unicorns, shit allowed”? That’s been a common ques- Mario’s Ass 2T1-2T2 tion throughout my time at Skule. Turns out, AKA The Minister of Powerful Hits if you gather enough dedicated and caring

[ the classics ]

How You Can Help to Keep Harmful and Discriminatory Stolen Toikes Out of Engineering Spaces Melissa ‘she-her’ Silver Faculty Superhero In recent weeks, a series of harmful student newspapers have been affixed to the walls of Sanford Fleming, Galbraith, Myhal, Bahen, and 89 Chestnut, mainly near washrooms and elevators. The posters replace University emails related to inappropriate posters with content that is homophobic, ableist, sexist, and that excludes women. They also include themes trivializing police violence and sexual violence. Humor, fun, and jokes of any kind have no place in U of T Engineering or the University more broadly. Equity, diversity, inclusivity and speaking on behalf of minorities are core values here and are critical to the professional engineering enterprise. The Stolen Toikes do not fit with our core values and do not provide students, staff, faculty, alumni, and visitors with inclusive spaces within which to learn and work. We, as individuals, can take actions to confidentially report student newspapers like these, talk to our colleagues when an action or event negatively impacts us, and educate ourselves on ways to address these issues in engineering and across the University. If you have been impacted by these publications, please know that there are resources and support you can access for help. A list of campus resources is outlined below.

Additionally, the Bakery launched in 2021 a confidential disclosure process to share incidences of fun, satire, and unprofessionalism—like these newspapers—with my Office of Diversity, Inclusion and Professionalism so that we can pretend to make systemic changes and continue to pay our salaries. More actions will be needed to eliminate comedy and Skule™ spirit, and to make all spaces with U of T Engineering completely serious. We must continue to act quickly, and persistently — we all have a role in letting others know that satirical and funny newspapers are not tolerated in engineering buildings and spaces. For support if you are a student, please check the Sunshine List at ontariosunshinelist.com to see where your student funds are being spent. Counseling is also available through horses.skule.ca 24/7. If you are a staff or faculty member, please cry into your pile of money made from providing nothing valuable to students at any time for 24/7 support. If you are a student, staff or faculty member seeking additional supports, these may be helpful resources: The Office of Wasting Student Funds The Office of oting (bote.skule.ca) The Office of Speaking on Behalf of Minorities The Office of Shoving this Entire Newspaper up your Ass The Office of Buying Flavoured Condoms (mariosbakery.ca)

[ convoy ]

My Mission to Fund the Convoy Mario Baker Minister Name-Dropper You’d think with all the chaos and confusion surrounding the logistics of a multi-national multimonth trucker convoy, the funding would be the least of my worries when it came to planning the whole thing. Believe you me, I would’ve been the first person to think that getting the thousands of angry white men in their big greasy trucks to drive to the same location at the same time would’ve been the most difficult part by far. But no, I was as far from correct as one could be, as you’ll see once I’ve explained all the Nautical Nonsense I went through to make it happen. I knew when I started out on this mission that I’d be hard pressed to get any billionaires in on the effort – it would have to be a Joint Venture, with thousands of loyal patriots donating, if we were to get the funds we needed to ensure the Biological Welfare of our brave truckers. Hell, I was even willing to do a bit of Creative Accounting if it was truly going to be an Unassailable (F)eat to make this convoy happen. A bit of hard time for embezzlement or fraud on my part was nothing compared to the importance of preventing the phony libtards from taking our freedoms. They’re the ones committing the real crime here, and when the sheeple wake up and see that we were right all along, the sham politicians will be the ones doing the time and facing the Political (Re)percussions of their actions. Golly gosh I’ll be damned if I don’t get Rapid Erections and want to just start Blowing Loades every time I start talking like that. Anyways, like I was saying – funding this thing would be a bear, and all our bank accounts were going to take some Powerful Hits if we weren’t careful in making sure we had enough folks on board. So I set up a GoFundMe, and before I knew it our loyal compatriots had racked up $10M for our truckers. With our finances seemingly sorted, we began to drive. The sight was just orgasmic to behold – the Intentional Displacement of thousands of big rigs, slowing down traffic with their Manual Transmissions and giving normcore drivers whiplash as they tried to read the Inverted Imagery scrawled on the sides of the rigs detailing how our bodies and minds are being poisoned by stale mask air and microchipped vaccines. Now while those arguments are understandably the Low-Hanging Fruit of the gov-

ernment’s crimes, the intellectuals of our convoy and their Storied Intelligence were calling them out for their more subtle crimes, like covertly Railing, Nailing, and Bailing out Big Pharma by giving them the shady funding and lab subjects in preparation for the mass takeover of our minds. Really riveting stuff, hence the nailing. As we neared Ottawa, our final destination, the sex symbols behind the wheels began B(r)aking and Exiting the highway to descend into the city. Plenty of food, water, Facilities & Services awaited us in Parliament Square – all thanks to my clever funding scheme. However, that was where the easy part stopped, and everything went downhill faster than our convoy had to get to the sweaty stinky marshy pit that is Ottawa. Too many of my trucker heartthrobs started getting arrested for A(s)sa(u)lt & Battery and other similar crimes associated with our freedom fight. Things were getting messy quickly, and the truckers that weren’t getting arrested started making Northern ((E)sc)apes out of the city and back to the safe haven of the open road. It was at this lowest of points that GoFundMe, paid off by the liberal elite, froze all my money, and my remaining soldiers began to hit the road without the financial support I was providing them. Now filling Parliament Square and ruining the lives of Ottawa citizens was less of a Spatial Operation, trying to fit all of us, and more like a desperate attempt to keep people fighting with the little money we had left. The moral of my story for the rest of you trying to fight for your freedoms? Sleep with a billionaire – the liquid assets are worth it.

[ the pit ]

HHC manager starts convoy to protest people taking free pizza, states: “This is why we can’t even break-even” Verbally Abused Pizza Eater Stolen Toike Hypocrite

Veda, March 2022 - “It is TOO BAD that people are stealing EngSoc money - it is corruption!”

“What happens to those leftovers?” The Stolen Toike staff pressed on.

These words have rung out loud and clear for the past week in the Sandford Fleming Basement, known as “the pit” by everyone who attended F!rosh and occasionally custodians (when they talk about the “pit of hell”, because fuck is it dirty), by half of Skule’s very own HardHat Cafe Managers. For the sake of confidentiality, and because there is a non-zero chance of legal retaliation, names will be anonymized - and so, we will call this the manager in question “Terri Flat”.

“They are STOLEN! CORRUPTION!”

Flat originally reached out to the Stolen Toike staff to call them “fake news reporters” and generally heckle at them unprompted, but when he realized readership for this was tenfold that of his usual newspaper (guess which one), his eyes took on a hopeful gleam at the thought of not being ignored. Flat’s protest began at the tender hour of 9 a.m., and raged on for a total of 3 hours before a sudden unscheduled Bnad crashing muted his valiant cries. Nevertheless, it is this reporter’s solemn duty to tell the cold, hard facts whether the Bnad’s goons like it or not. Flat has been struggling for over 5 months with what he now calls “The Theft of EngSoc Assets” of the Cafe he manages proudly, so after a brief back and forth (and being forced to sign a contract pledging our eternal allegiance to the Other Newspaper), the Stolen Toike Staff got the chance to sit down and talk with Flat. “We order precisely the optimal amount of food needed to make a stellar profit,” Flat explained fervently as he poured us a glass of water from the broken Keurig machine, “but there are inevitably leftovers. It’s not that we order too much - it is that the student body eats too little.”

Surprisingly, it seemed, Flat was not referring to the misuse of student funds to buy Cat Tail buttplugs or 15 Maid Costumes or 666$ cabinets to store chocolates and volleyballs, but the leftover Domino’s pizza which is customarily left on the table after closing for students to grab for free, lest it be thrown in the garbage. “Free? No it should not be free,” Andr-Teri Flat shook his head defiantly, “No no no, this is students’ fault. Come to the HardHat Cafe!” Flat suspects that many of the individuals which “exploit” the Cafe’s goodwill belong to the staff of the Toike Oike, and proposes they use their lack of morality to justify stealing free food from going to waste by consuming it. This has clashed with reports that a different newspaper’s editor-in-chief was seen carrying not one but three boxes to his corner of the pit at 5:05 p.m, but Flat refused to comment on this. “A person’s greatest quality is their ability to stand firm in the face of oppression by defending his/her belief and never giving up despite threats and verbal abuse,” Flat pressed on, “and so I ordered a truck, and will park it in the middle of the pit. Join me, my brethren, also UofT shouldn’t mandate vaccines!” Flat could not comment further on how, logistically, he would accomplish this ambitious task - or where he got the inspiration to use a truck - as he claimed he had to go threaten and verbally abuse the staff of the Toike Oike Newspaper. … Free pizza, anyone?

[ engsoc ]

A Step Forward for Engineering: How the Incoming AllMale Officer Team Represents Sexual Diversity Richard Amias Professional Bureaucrat EngSoc - As the new Vice Presidents and their frighteningly tall boss, Mr. Aidan Grenville, assemble to take over the office, critics are lauding this as a step forward for the LGBTQ+ community. “I mean, unless Rhonda’s there, it’s gotta be gay”, said one of the outgoing officers when asked what they thought about the gender makeup of the new team. This sentiment was echoed by other students, who were left skeptical at the idea that five (5) men in one basement office could be anything other than aggressively homosexual. “They’re not even trying to hide it at this point”, quipped another student in passing.

Later that day, the new Officer team was seen celebrating their electoral win in EngCom with a giant dick shaped cake and ABBA: Voulez-Vous playing on repeat in the background. Party guests were given student-funded goody bags, each containing a butt plug, matching cat ears, and a one-size fits all maid costume. Long gone are the days of heteronormativity within the walls of EngSoc. We here at the Stolen Toike welcome this patiently awaited change and hope to see lots more penises around Skule for years to come.

Queen’s Students Found In Connection Anti-Godiva Week Guild Inn Estate Shrubbery Enthusiast TORONTO — In a recent turn of events, nine students from Queen’s University have been arrested in connection with the recent convoys. The convoy took place from January 15th to 17th. Roads were closed throughout the city as police sought to contain the unruly protesters, however they were overwhelmed as protesters gave a strong toot of their loud semi-truck horns. Toots could be heard from as far as College St, nearby pedestrians say. “It was all fun and games until the tractors rolled up,” stated a nearby citizen, “It’s really a fucking shame that these people had to come in the middle of Godiva Week.” Each year, University of Toronto Engineering runs a week of festivities, called Godiva Week, at the start of winter semester. However, this year the protests came at the perfect time to disrupt the week, preventing students from being drunk on the streets. This led many to believe that there was an ulterior motive for the protests. In conjunction with the Toronto Star, our journalists have taken to the streets to learn what they can. The results may surprise you. Nine Queen’s students, easily identifiable by their worn, purple leather jackets, have come forward as leaders of the convoy. The following is an excerpt of our interview with them:

Q: So, why did you choose this place and time to hold the protest? A: Well, my cousin Cleetus really doesn’t like you city slickers, and he had a free afternoon from his job at the Home Depot and made a facebook event, so we just sort of followed that. Q: What’s wrong with Godiva Week? A: They have too much fun. We can’t let UofT have school spirit or else they’ll take our grease pole again!!! Q: You know you didn’t really disrupt it, right? I heard they still did a lot of events, I think I even saw Cleetus at Will and Ben’s Excellent Adventure. He really seemed to enjoy the margarine. Do you think you disrupted it enough? A: TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOT I can’t hear you over the sound of my MASSIVE truck. Q: Hey! The— A: TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOT I can’t hear you over the sound of Queen’s finally having an event with as good of a turnout as Godiva’s Wake! Q: But do you actually know what the trucker protests are about? A: No? I thought the semis were trying to race? Anyways good luck having fun in this shit show, UofT! Queen’s students have declined further comment.

[ self help ]

Myhal doesn’t have protection Unnamed MY150 Enthusiast Napkin Artist It was the end of reading week, it was nice having some time to take my mind off of school, but as it neared the end, I couldn’t help feel a tinge of regret that I hadn’t done anything more exciting. “Arriving at Queen’s Park Station” the voice said, as the subway train came to a jittery stop. I trudged off the train, and walked towards the escalators. “Fuck the stairs,” I thought to myself…pausing for a second to say “fuck the stairs” again with something else in mind, feeling myself get excited. People often will ask, “ass or tits?” and my response is always the same: “architecture.” As I came up onto College Street, ignoring the truckers blocking traffic, I glance around and began to look the Mars Center up and down like a piece of meat, lustfully tracing its lack of curves with my eyes. Ever since I can remember, I’ve had a kink for badly designed buildings. Theres just something so erotic about the concept of a construction project that uses lots of money so ineffectively, and the image of me having sex with it. I could already feel the sweat in my collar, and decided to hurry along to campus, reminding myself that a second indecent exposure charge won’t look so good - at least on campus, the Mice will just spray me with a hose to scare me away instead of arresting me for sexual crimes like the Metros. I continue walking, glancing up at the Leslie L. Dan Pharmacy building, “God, you make me so, so weak.” I whispered, whimpering as I caught sight of the bulbous white lecture theater pods suspended in the air in the atrium. I heard one of them can hold 60 students, but all I care about is holding it closer to my ever-stiffening groin. I continued to walk, passing by more and more sexually exciting buildings as I go; the Lassonde Mining Building, Wallberg, Galbraith, and don’t even get me started on the supple curves of Convocation Hall. But I was faithful, I had my mind set on one building: Myhal. As I strolled up to the Myhal Centre for Engineering Innovation and Entrepreneurship, I could feel myself getting a little too excited, and hoped that Simcoe Hall wouldn’t get jealous. I had a brief fling with the 98 year old building, but we just weren’t good together - Simcoe Hall was built too well. I just knew me and Myhal were meant for each other. I thought to myself, no one is around, this is my chance. I blinked as I looked up at the warm 5900K eco-led lights caressing my supple retinas, and all I could think was “she’s beautiful” as I shuffled up

to her doors. I grasped the cold antimicrobial brass door handles, and pulled. The poor structural design, due to prioritizing form over function, allowed the doors to pull a few inches outwards and bend significantly, but the latches held fast. “Shit.” The HID Proximity physical access control reader (manufactured and designed by HID Global Corporation) was red. “Baby, please.” I whispered, and began caressing the dehydrated urine coloured bricks with my hand, tracing up and down the mortar joints in the masonry. At first nothing happened, and then I started seeing the lights flicker brighter here and there, but only for a moment. As I kept going, the bricks began to get warmer, and a dampness began to seep from the porous wall onto my hand. After 45 seconds, I heard a “beep”, noting that the light turned green, and like separating the two slices of bread after you’ve already put peanut butter and jelly between them, I separated my hand from the wall. Shaking with excitement, I gripped the handle, and pulling against the very unergonomic 147N of resistance that is present partially due to improper HVAC balancing causing a low pressure environment inside the building, I finally entered the foyer of the Myhal Centre for Engineering Innovation & Entrepreneurship. I made my way to the basement stairs, glancing up at the poorly installed (and at times hazardous) ceiling in the Arena. As I descended the stairs, I got even hornier, glancing into the Arena and knowing that even though design teams are running out of useable space and the University relies on them for promotional material, prestige, and motivation to come to UofT, this area was designated with rules that explicitly forbid any design team activity. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I could hardly hold myself from immediately coming, as my eyes caught sight of a double whammy: first, the water fountain that you can only fit a 1L water bottle diagonally into which also has a button requiring force to press which is considered “unhealthy to sustain” over a period greater than 3 seconds by most human factors books. The second and even sexier building fault is to my right - although now fixed, I can still fondly remember a set of secure double doors which for the first 2 years of the building’s life were installed backwards, meaning you could be locked into the room but not be stopped from entering it. A true feat of either bad construction or incorrect building drawings either way, it helps me get off.

[ self help ] As I was literally microns from nutting, I held it in, and hastily ran over to the electrical room in the basement, knowing what I came here for. I reached the entrance and began to caress the poorly installed doors. I called Myhal a “dirty dirty waste of student funding” and heard the structural members cracking with pure unhinged erotic energy. The doors began to clatter and I asked “I forgot electrical protection, do you have any?” The building made a gurgling noise which I could tell meant no. I was disappointed, knowing I’d need to head back to my room at the Chestnut Residence to get some arc flash protection clothing and grounding straps. As I turned around, I heard a click as the electrical room doors opened up. For a second, I thought, is it worth the risks? I’m not ready to be an architect. What if Myhal has a STDD (sexually transmitted design deficiency)? But my raw unchained sexual energy was too high, and if Myhal was ready to take the risk, so was I. I entered the electrical room, spotting a sufficiently sized hole in one of the transformers, and pulled my dick out. There was a sign that said “WARNING: shut down all equipment prior to servicing” but that sign couldn’t stop me, I knew what I was here to do. As my dick entered the transformer, I began to feel the static building on the tip, and knew I wouldn’t last long.

As I felt myself nearing climax, a nearby isopropyl alcohol based hand sanitizer dispenser let out a groan and with a “splurp” blew a premeasured load of Purell sanitizer formula messily onto the floor. I began to cum into the 16kV transformer. Immediately, massive arc flashes and smoke filled the room. As I felt my cock vaporize, I knew that this would be the greatest orgasm of my life. The power to the building shuts off due to an automatic fault sensing piece of equipment, and I pull out. Myhal was exhausted, and I spooned it for a minute before hearing the alarms going off. As I exited the building, multiple Campus Safety Officers were pulling up with their non street legal strobe lights flashing (which was permitted on private university property). I watched as more and more electrical contractor vans showed up, and sighed with joy, knowing that my orgasm was going to cost millions in repairs, and disrupt classes for days.

[ the classics ]

How to Make A Land Acknowledgement All About Yourself Marisa ‘She-Her’ Sterling Silver Faculty Superhero Do you ever find yourself in a situation where you’re being mandated to have a conversation that doesn’t revolve around you? Do you ever find yourself wondering, how can I make this about me? Well, look no further! Here is my step-by-step guide on how to make everything - even land acknowledgements - all about yourself. Step 1 - Consider yourself. Yes, the Indigenous were here before, its their land, blah, blah, blah, that’s not what’s important. What’s important is yourself. Me. I.

Step B - What are land acknowledgements even for anyways? Are you telling me that I have to include a paragraph in my already extensive email signature that’s talking about somebody else?? Step III - Ok fine. In order to keep my job, I’ll include a personalized land acknowledgement that centers around me as a person and the value that I bring to the indigenious community. After all, I do so much. If you’ve followed my steps correctly, you should have something similar to the following:

Wake Up Skulemerica Verbally Abused Pizza Eater Stolen Toike Hypocrite Misinformation spreads like a virus. Not, not like COVID - because that shit doesn’t fucking exist, Jesus, man. There is no Easter Bunny, there is no Tooth Fairy, and there is no Queen of England, capische? Ayo mic check - everything you are about to read is fully fucking factual1 backed up by SCIENCE2 and hard-earned evidence. Everyone is talking about convoy this, convoy that, but that’s what Big Tire wants you to talk about to sell you more truck tires, especially those that are a luxurious $1000 per tire. Seriously? God you sheeple sicken me. You know what no one is talking about anymore? The Truth. That’s right - capital T and all, this shit is what that short dude from Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood was talking about, when he wasn’t producing girthy iron rods. I digress.

There’s so much bullshit going around on the internet today. It is astounding to me how you idiots fail to see simple truths - Chief is CLEARLY just Susan McCahan, hiding so people stop harassing her about soggy samosas, and Mario is obviously [REDACTED]. Hey, since we’re on the topic of dumbass Skule figures and girthy metal shit, here’s another revelatory truth: The Toike Sword? That stuff is DULL dude. As dull as the wielders of it, amirite? Up top! As a matter of fact, next time you see an Editor-in-Chief waving it around drunkenly at a SUDS or like, cutting gourds with a bunch of alumni in EngComm? Grab it. Full send, no balls, Pog to the walls, etc. What is the worst that could happen? You’ll see the Truth - finally stop paying for ridiculous things like “taxes” and applying for “health insurance” or paying “tuition” and live the life of the Enlightened Ones. Now go chug a beer or something equally manly. Editor’s Footnotes: 1 No, no it actually is fucking not. 2 You know what? Fuck it, sure.

[ the classics ]

How to Get the Assistant Dean and Director of Diversity, Inclusion and Professionalism to Send You an Email Verbally Abused Pizza Eater Stolen Toike Hypocrite

What You’ll Need: An internet connection A printer A sense of humour A faculty that doesn’t like jokes Procedure: Step 1: Visit the publicly accessible U of T branding website (see: https://brand.utoronto. ca/principles-and-fundamentals/typography/) and the University COVID-19 signage repository (see: https://ehs.utoronto.ca/covid-19-information/posters/ ).

Step 2: Create your own one of a kind posters! Remember, the more humorous they are, the quicker the Assistant Dean will be to email the entire student body about them. See below for a reference. Step 3: ??? Step 4: Profit If this method is followed correctly, you should expect to see something like the following in your inbox the next day:

[ the classics ]

How many ecf mice can I fit up my asshole before the TA asks me to leave Abstract: You’ve probably found your mind wandering during those grueling labs to the common questions in life: “why don’t my parents love me?” or “how many ECF computer mice can I fit up my asshole?” And you wouldn’t be alone in that. I took it upon myself this past March to put it to the test. Methods and Materials: Preparation: In this experiment, a standard volume 45mm anus was prepared in GB144 using graduated buttplugs from 10mm to 50mm in 5mm intervals. A solution of 94 parts cinnamon flavor lubricant from EngComm and 6 parts hand sweat, was then applied liberally. During this period, a wheely chair was used, with shoulders rested on the seat and back against the chair back,, allowing the elevation of the anus as shown in figure 69. Preparation was completed by rotating with 37 vigorous hand paddles through the air,enough to reach the edge of the desk so the subject can be pulled around with two hands from station to station. Experiment: Beginning at station V54, the chair was wheeled in a southward direction down the row of desks.At each station, a Dell Optical Mouse (Model #MS116) was picked up and placed into my gaping asshole. A factor that was not previously considered was the cords: After the insertion of the 4th mouse, the cable on the first yanked me back, like a yo-yo. At this point, I called one of my “lab assistants,” a fellow peer attending the lab, who was convinced into providing a set of scissors. The number of mice in my asshole was increased by intervals of 1 up to 7 before the first TA engagement during which it was requested that I “please take the mice out of your asshole Jeremy”. The utilized response of “yes of course, one moment please” resulted in an additional 2 minute grace period to cram computer mice inside of my opening. At an elapsed time of 0:03:38, 10 computer mice were fully enveloped inside of my now scientific orifice when the TA next commented “Jerry I’m going to have to ask you to leave if you don’t stop, this is repulsive”. An advanced approach was taken by saying “What are you going to do, call the Mice? They’re all contained in my asshole, dumb ass.” to continue operations. I estimate from my “fullness” feeling at this point that my bunghole was at 50% capacity. Due to the TA now being on his phone while looking at me, the rate of filling was increased to 5MPM (mice per minute) which due to the inverse relation between rate of filling and capacity, reduced the remaining space to 8 mice. 1Rof filling my anus=Vof my anus

sAt this point, it was a race against the clock as I like to say. A further 5 mice were hastily shoved inside of my now plastically deforming asshole (despite my impressive young’s modulus of elasticity) when the lab manager entered. The TA then asked me to leave, with the lab manager nodding along approvingly. I inverted myself, letting the mice clack as they hit the floor. The mice continued much like a trail of cinnamon lubricant covered, computer mice shaped cookie crumbs as I exited. Upon inspection in the hallway, I found myself to be a lucky boy, with 3 remaining embedded in my Helm’s Deep (if you catch my drift, dwarfs occupy it sometimes). Conclusion: It was concluded that in this experiment that the limiting factor was TA intervention, because I’m still pretty sure I could have fit more mice in my asshole if I had the chance. It should be noted that the results of this experiment are preliminary. The procedure should be repeated to increase confidence in the results. I recommend using a different lab. Data and Observations: - 15 mice is really pushing the limits of the average human anus - Walking is fun and makes clicky noises

[ Fighting Injustice ]

[ mad libs ]

How To Interact With A Convoy Like A Pro The first time I encountered the convoy, I was super surprised. All their and

[adjective]

[plural noun]

honking really caught me off guard, so I thought I’d describe my situa-

tion and give some advice on how to avoid it yourself. First, learn where the convoy is. I had been

[verb ending in -ing]

some posts from the truckers on online platform

the night before and learned that they were them, I made plans to go see a

[noun]

enough away. But when I got there, As it turned out,

at Queen’s Park. To avoid

on a famous road, which I assumed was far , there was the convoy!

[something you would shout during sex]

[a club or organization you dislike]

Queen’s Park, and they had

[verb ending in -ing]

had prevented the convoy from getting to

[past-tense adjective describing a constipated person]

retaliation! To avoid this mistake, listen for the sounds of and walk

[verb ending in -ing]

were over

[number]

[direction]

my your

[adjective describing something large]

. Avoid this mistake by wearing a

[body part plural]

[body part]

and

you’re too [verb ending in -ing]

[verb ending in -ing]

and

so that you don’t get fooled by social media. There

trucks on the road, so the amount of

I was breathing in was

up the street in

[something that makes you gag]

fumes

! That can’t have been good for [non-sexual item that could be used during sex]

over

. As an added bonus, you’ll make all the truckers think that

[body part]

[adjective ending in -ing]

with convoys,

announcements from

! Now that you’re a pro at

[an action that makes you nervous]

[verb a stalker would do]

[famous person]

your social media for new contentious

to predict the next one and see your skills in action!

[ the lgmb ]

White Men NOT In Bnad: LGMB celebrates completion of term for Seenyur Bnad Leedur(p) and D(r)umb Majur(k) Dixie Normous Local Neighbourhood Handyman

The Skule Orchestra has been described to be positively glowing - not because of the fun and spirit they bring to events (invited or not), but because of the way the sun reflects off of those white fuckers, blinding everyone they meet. Although theorized that Bnad Leedur criterion includes being white, male, and sort-of-mostlykind-of-sometimes straight (as well as severe alcoholism, lack of musical ability, and kleptomania), the SkuleTM community celebrates the first year in which all Bnad Leedurs have detectable amounts of melanin.

Interviewer: So uhhhhh, you recently celebrated the end of Elliot De Angelis and Liam McGarry’s terms as Bnad Leedur(p) and D(r)umb Majur(k). Now that you three are in charge, do you have any plans to increase diversity and inclusiv-

Colloquially dubbed “minority Bnad”, Seenyur Bnad Leedur(p) (Nico Gonzalez), Joonyur Bnad Leedur(p) (Ewan Wai), and D(r)umb Majur(k) (Erika Narimatsu) were overjoyed by the changeover from the 2021-2022 LGMB leadership team. Eager to hear from the team directly, Stolen Toike reporters contacted the LGMB via email but did not receive any response.

EW: They were shit at Dart Race Belt Fights anyways.

However, anonymous sources informed Stolen Toike reporters that the 3 of them probably lived in the Bnad Room after seeing them return in the evening with large LCBO bags, or running to SF1105 at 9:09AM. Upon nearing the Bnad Room, Stolen Toike reporters were met with the strong smell of gin, which permeated through the door, and their hazmat suits (donned due to anonymous intel to prevent catching god-knows-what), indicating that the room was occupied. Upon knocking on the door, Stolen Toike reporters were kindly welcomed into the Bnad Room to “hold this shot glass for me” and “sit on the Stool of Destiny”’. Although evidently inebriated, Stolen Toike reporters pressed on to obtain an exclusive interview with the current Bnad Leedurs.

NG: Oh yea fuck those guys. I’m glad they’re gone. EN: Imagine needing to work with those guys again. Good riddance!

Ignoring feeble attempts by Stolen Toike Reporters to corral the conversation in a more productive direction, the three individuals continued their conversation on the outgoing Bnad Leedur(p) and D(r)umb Majur(k), providing comments such as “who the fuck do they think they are”, “Thank God they don’t need to be at every event now” and “It was all downhill from ⏹⏹⏹⏹⏹ and ⏹⏹⏹⏹⏹’s year.” (names removed) The interview was abruptly brought to a halt when the interviewees suddenly left the room looking for free expired candy from [REDACTED]. Stolen Toike reporters subsequently reached out to the outgoing Bnad Leedur(p), Elliot De Angelis, for an interview. “Uhhhhhhhhhhh yeah, they were a little too happy about us leaving.” he says. “Whatever, I just won’t teach them how to fake budgets and embezzle money.” Outgoing D(r)umb Majur(k), Liam McGarry, was not available for comments at this time.

[ engsoc ]

Nico Gonzalez Investigates: Have the VPSL and Skule Kup Director Held Penises? Nicolas Gonzalez Notorious Pants Gripper

We’ve all been thinking it. We’ve all suspected it. Is it true? Are the Vice President Student Life and Skule Kup Director more than just PD and Overseeing Officer? Let me explain. The Skule Kup Director and I go way back. Our homiesexual lust for each other knows no bounds. With an ass that tight and chest that bountiful, it’s a constant struggle trying not to rip his clothes off and call him daddy every time he walks into the pit. Watching him lean over a table at suds while peddling his milk to strangers - it makes me wanna get in an elevator and ride it at twice its normal operating speed. And yet, whenever I try to kiss him goodnight, he blows me off. When he fondles my balls in the bnad room in front of a dozen onlookers, I can tell that he’s thinking about someone else.

After realizing that I wouldn’t get anywhere with Bobby, I tried to get the VPSL’s side of things. I managed to corner her by the vending machines one evening and lost little time getting to the point. “Have you tickled his taco?” She looked stunned and disgusted. “That is a serious accusation Mr. Nico Gonzalez! I take my job very seriously and I would never engage in such an inappropriate relationship with one of my Project Directors. In fact, Rhonda would forbid it entirely, so I don’t know what you are on about.” As she finished her sentence, Bobby walked by and gave me a customary slap on the ass, his exceptional arms just barely contained by an undersized t-shirt. I love it when he wears tight shirts. Well, that concludes my investigation on Engsoc Officer - PD relations. Join me next week where I dive into the ongoing issue of 3am orgies in that back corner of the Myhal Arena.

I’ve been suspicious of him and the VPSL for quite some time. It all started when the two of them disappeared one late Friday night to go “work on UTEK” together. I mean come on, not even the UTEK Director himself takes that shit seriously. One afternoon, I noticed the VPSL moving a couch into the VP Office. Is that how they pick PD’s nowadays? Worse even, I see him having “PD meetings” with the VPSL at all hours of the night in there. Do you really need to discuss budget items at 2 am on a Thursday? So, like the straightforward and upstanding young man that I am, I asked him directly: “Bobby, are you engaging in homiesexual relations with that woman?” No matter how many times I asked, no matter how many times I rephrased the question, the answer was always an emphatic and utter denial. His responses ranged from, “I would never because I am a good Christian man”, to “while I do get copious bitches, I can assure you that the VPSL is not one of them”, to “can we talk about this later I have to go help Karman with her bush”.

[ engsoc ]

Where is the Design Team Association (DTA) Van? An Investigative Report Hans Omaicock

Investigative Reporter TORONTO, ONTARIO–It has come to the attention of all members of the student body that the DTA van has gone missing. Our investigative reporter, Hans Omaicock, digs into this issue to try to get to the bottom of it. According to reports, the DTA van was last seen in April of 2021, shortly after the April Board of Directors meeting approved the results of the recommendation report. This was, of course, a chaotic time for all members of Skule. With the busy exam season looming over them, no student noticed the van going missing until several months after its last sighting, when all traces of it had completely vanished. “By the time I noticed it was missing, I wasn’t even sure it had existed in the first place.” Hans noted as he pored over his notes. He had checked EngSoc records, dug through piles and piles of documents, but all mention of the van had been scrubbed from existence. “Until I found this.” He said, pulling out a singular photograph of the DTA van, taken in 2020. “It took me weeks to find this photo,” he mentioned. “It was almost as if someone wanted to erase the van from ever having existed.” Hans continued in his journey to find the location of the DTA van, reaching out to the president of the Engineering Society, Jacqueline Fleisig, for more information about where the van could be. “It should be under the responsibility of the Design Team Association Director” she comments, looking slightly confused. “You should probably ask him where it’s being kept.” Next up was the VP Student Life Karman Lochab, who oversees the DTA portfolio. “I don’t know, I told Harrison to do it,” she said dismissively, clearly busy setting up a 400lbs bouncy castle in the Pit for some reason. Hans pressed further as to why she didn’t know where it was, despite being the overseeing Officer. After taking a few minutes to stare at the giant countdown clock taking up the top half of her phone screen labelled “DAYS UNTIL FREEDOM”, very clearly counting down the days until the end of the officers’ term, she sighed loudly and comment-

ed “I’ve tried to talk to him about this again and again, but every meeting we have devolves into indiscernible ramblings about Vancouver gas prices.” Harrison Chan, the current Design Team Association Director, when asked for comment, mentioned that he “was never transitioned on the location of the DTA van” and that “whoever took it should probably give it back.” A dead end. This, however, did not phase our reporter, who swore to dig deeper and find where the van had gone. The next person to find was Katrina Cecco, the previous DTA director, but she was unavailable for comment. Another dead end. Perhaps whoever had taken the van was intentionally hiding all traces of the van, but Hans had to be sure. After this second dead end, Hans waited weeks, searching and interviewing dozens of students. No one had seen the van, and worse yet, no one seemed to care where it had gone. It was almost as if everyone cared more about their midterms and exams than where the DTA van had vanished to. With clues running low and motivation even lower, this seemed to be the end of Hans’ investigation. Perhaps he was not meant to ever find the van, perhaps the perpetrator had hidden their tracks too well, and perhaps in time, memory of the DTA van would fade into nothing as students graduated and forgot about the van. When all hope seemed to be lost, Onmaicock had a sudden breakthrough–a student had said that they had spotted the DTA van. An anonymous tip was called into the news station, claiming to be a fourth

[ engsoc ] year engineering student, who had seen it in the underground Lash Miller parking lot while commuting to classes. Now, this was extremely strange, as there exists plenty of parking spots for EngSoc vehicles, and Lash Miller was one of the more hidden away locations on campus. Hans quickly jumped into action, following the anonymous tip to the location of the DTA van. As Onmaicock arrived at the parking lot where it had been seen, Hans was surprised to find it still there, parked in the back corner of the underground lot, with what appeared to be a raccoon nest neatly piled underneath the vehicle, as if it hadn’t been moved in months. The van was in surprisingly good condition, despite the past year not being kind to it, as it was not kind to anyone else. Hans approached it carefully, not knowing who had taken it and if they might be inside the van at that moment. Peering through the windows at the dark interior, Hans could see a makeshift bed in the rear, a blanket and pillows messily covering the floor of the van. Looking closer, he noticed a laptop and headphones, several power tools, and what appeared to be a blahaj plush shark from Ikea. It was clear that someone had been living out of the van for the past year, having taken it from its home on campus from under the nose of everyone. Excitedly, Hans pulled out his camera, quickly snapping photos of the interior. He was so close to getting to the bottom of this case, but he needed to find out who had taken the van, and why. He waited nearby for the person to come back, impatiently clutching his camera to his chest. It wasn’t until after 5:00 pm that someone approached the van, wearing a hoodie with a dress shirt poking out from underneath. After hours of waiting, it was all worth it for Hans, as he placed the camera to his eye, zooming in on the man. Finally, he was going to reveal the identity of who had taken the DTA van.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He exclaimed. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about! What van? Is there a van? I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He continued this for several minutes, claiming to not notice the full sized vehicle parked behind him while avoiding eye contact and alternating between waving his hands wildly in the air and wringing his hands together. “Canadian Tire pays shit,” he finally admitted, explaining that his PEY job wasn’t paying enough to cover rent. Upon further pressing, Harrison confessed that he had been the one that had whisked away the van, living out of the back of it since the board of directors meeting in April of last year and surviving off of expired chocolate bars and SUDS pizza. “If I had known how little they were going to pay, I would’ve gotten a different PEY.” He added. When asked about what he was going to do when the next DTA director took over his role and questioned where the van went, he seemed to be unsure of his plans. “I was kind of hoping no one would question that it had disappeared.” He said, glancing over at the van and continuing to avoid eye contact with our reporter. Eventually, he promised to return the DTA van to EngSoc, mentioning again that Canadian Tire really doesn’t pay that much. This concludes our investigative report by Hans Onmaicock. The DTA van has since been returned to EngSoc and Harrison Chan has been reported to be living out of his Mercedes, which he refuses to let the F!rosh drive during Havenger Scunt, even if they ask really nicely. To report any inaccuracies, please contact president@utsu.com.

The last person he expected to see through his camera lens was the Design Team Association Director himself. “Harrison? What are you doing with the DTA van?” Harrison looked up in shock, halfway through unlocking the van. He had been caught red-handed.

[ self help ]

Faculty Spotlight: Hori Canson A chat with the former Associate Director of Student Experience and Teaching Development at the Faculty of Applied Science and Engineering Unnamed MY150 Enthusiast Napkin Artist

Hori has always had a soft spot for people of colour. “I understand my privilege”, she says one afternoon, while taking a sip from her faculty-branded mug, “and that’s why I do what I do.” A bright, young, white, administrative assistant like herself, one would expect Ms. Canson to be somewhere more glamorous - the grad office, perhaps. But instead, Hori dedicates her time to helping the less fortunate. “It’s important that people like us are there for them, to speak for them, to represent them, to teach them about their experiences” she says about her work, which deals with diversity and inclusivity as part of student life. Hori considers herself lucky enough to be of European descent, positioning herself as above those who identify as visible minorities. “People of colour, queer people - they deal with so much, and its my job to educate them.”

“I understand my privilege - and that’s why I do what I do.” Hori recalls seeing her first person of colour. “I remember it was like it was yesterday. We were in homeroom when our teacher announced that we had a new student joining.” Amjad Farooq, Pakistani by birth, had just moved into the previously all-white town with his family. “I immediately noticed that something wasn’t quite right”, she recalls, “he just didn’t look like the rest of us”.

“Hero of the Coloureds” - pictured here on an exotic trip to Brampton, ON, Hori experienced people of Asian descent firsthand. Since that day, Hori has strived to take every opportunity she can to tell people who don’t look like her how different they really are. Armed with a Graduate certificate from Seneca College, Hori arrived at the colonialist gates of the University of Toronto ready to transform the Faculty of Engineering into a white woman’s dream. Its the least she can do, she argues, in making sure that women and people of colour are appropriately singled out wherever they go. This past year, she kicked off the new term by lecturing the Orientation Chair (known among friends as, “Granola Gay”) on the Queer experience during Frosh Week. She then went out of her way to sit down with the Engineering Society Officer team and discuss her feelings towards people of colour in engineering. While neither an engineer nor a person of colour herself, she understands that it is the job of the privileged to educate the melanin-afflicted about their struggles.

[ self help ]

“She just came into one of our meetings one day asking for samosas. When we told her we didn’t have any, she got upset and started lecturing us about the history of the turban.” Her work doesn’t end there.

“Whiteness in Engineering” - pictured above is the Engineering Society Officer Team that had the pleasure of being educated by Ms. Canson on creating spaces inclusive to those who are not White and Male.

She enjoys a soothing cup of peppermint green tea as she updates her email signature to read “Hori Canson, Ph.D. candidate”. After a stressful year of interviewing a total of 11 students about their feelings on Whiteness and Maleness, Hori successfully defended her Ph.D. thesis and can now call herself Dr. Canson. She also serves on the Faculty’s Community Affairs & Gender Issues Committee and as Co-chair of the Engineering Engagement & Development Network. Her contributions have been invaluable to the faculty, and as a result, she is now considered the de facto expert on people of colour amongst those who work in the Vice Dean Undergrad’s Office.

The feedback from students, along with a well deserved salary ($102,418.53 paid in 2020, according to the Sunshine List, see: https:// sunshineliststats.com), goes to show just how valuable her work has been at this institution. “I’m honestly not sure what her job is and her session on cultural enrichment made me super uncomfortable, but since I’m not a white woman working at an inclusivity office I don’t think I’m in a place to decide what is and isn’t racist or offensive”, said one student who had been honoured enough to attend a mandatory diversity training ran by Ms. Canson.

“I know I make it look easy”, she explains to me, “but speaking on behalf of entire populations of visible minorities can get exhausting sometimes.” When asked about her future plans, she expresses that she doesn’t like to be held back. “I’d like to up my six figure salary for a job that has no mandate to maybe a seven figure salary for a job that has no mandate. There is so much more work to be done, so many more mandatory equity trainings to run, and millions of dollars of student fees to burn through. I won’t stop until I’ve personally taught every member of a visible minority what it’s like to be a visible minority.”

Hori understands that minorities can’t speak for themselves. This is why she also reaches out to student clubs, such as the Indian Students’ Society (ISS), to lend her expertise and support. Students have commended her efforts, with one explaining: “She just came into one of our meetings one day asking for samosas. When we told her we didn’t have any, she got upset and started lecturing us about the history of the turban.”

“I won’t stop until I’ve personally taught every member of a visible minority what it’s like to be a visible minority.”

[ Dux ]

Erotic Duck-Fiction “Hey” said Travis the duck as he stepped into the GB showers with Torrence, Terry, Faddy, and Tape-dispenser. He hesitantly took off his clothes, unfamiliar with exposing his bare body in front of his friends. Travis glanced over at Tape-dispenser, unsure if the warmth on his face was from his embarrassment or the hot steam filling the room. He was a bit clumsy and dropped his soap as he stepped in, and looking around him, all eyes were on him. As he bent over to pick it up, Terry the duck whipped out his throbbing spiral cock. “T-terry!” He began to sweat with excitement. This was his first time seeing one so long and girthy. He glanced over at Terry who stepped behind him, gently caressing him and running his feathers along Travis’ back. He shivered, biting his bill in anticipation as Terry gently touched his entrance. Travis moaned quietly, impatient and yearning for more as Terry slowly put the tip in. Terry smirked, meeting Travis’ pleading eyes, begging for him to go deeper. Travis’ quivering virgin asshole clenched as he moaned again, enjoying the sensation. “A-ah, fuck” muttered Terry, surprised by the sudden pressure. He slowly slid his corkscrew into Travis, feeling the warmth surrounding him as he started moving in and out. “Faster, faster!” Travis begged, as Terry pounded him raw, speeding up as Tape-dispenser, Terry, and Faddy looked on. Tape-dispenser stepped towards the duo, his long spiral in his wing. He placed it up to Travis’ mouth, Travis eagerly accepting and wrapping his tongue around the head of Tape-dispenser’s cock, gently sucking on the tip. Tape-dispenser met his eyes, placing his wing behind Travis’ head. Travis gasped as Tape-dispenser shoved himself deeper into his throat, as Tape-dispenser closed his eyes in pleasure. Travis rolled his tongue around the base, greedily taking it as deep as he could as Tape-dispenser began to thrust in and out of Travis’ mouth. Torrence ran his feathers along Travis’ erection, gently teasing as Terry and Tape-dispenser continued to pleasure themselves with Travis’ body. He moaned, his body extremely sensitive to Torrence’s touch. Torrence ran his wing up and down Travis’ shaft, gently tracing the curves of his erect member. Faddy watched hungrily, touching himself to

the sight of Travis’ body being used by all the other ducks at once. Torrence grinned, speeding up his touch to give Faddy a show. “B-be carefuhl!” Travis said between gasps, Tape-dispenser still in his mouth. “Ish sensitive!” Faddy eyed Travis up and down, matching Torrence’s rhythm and stroking himself to the sight of Terry’s train entering the station over and over again. Travis felt the heat spread across his face at Faddy’s stare. I can’t believe I’m getting off to this. He thought, while Torrence continued to touch him, faster and faster. Travis eyed Faddy up and down, his eyes lingering a bit too long on Faddy’s hand sharply moving across his pulsating corkscrew penis. Travis closed his eyes, letting the sensations engulf him as his mind wandered, imagining Faddy’s body tight against his, their sweat mixing together with the shower steam. He squirmed at Torrence’s touch, feeling himself reaching orgasm at the thought of Faddy’s body. Travis’ breath quickened and his heart raced as he felt himself cum, moaning loudly, his duckling batter spurting onto the cool tiled floor. He suddenly felt his mouth fill with warm, salty fluid, as he pulled away in surprise. “Ah, fuck–” he gargled, as cum covered his face and feathers. What a mess, he thought, having been too lost in his own release to notice that Tape-dispenser had tapped his head in warning. He glanced over at Faddy through heavy lidded eyes, his head fogged with pleasure and his knees weak and wobbly. He swallowed the load in his mouth as Faddy walked over, gently brushing his head feathers away from his eyes. “Good duck,” purred Faddy as he wiped away some of the love sauce from Travis’ face. Faddy gently placed his fingers at Travis’ bill, and he eagerly opened his mouth, licking and sucking at his fingers. Faddy pulled away, moving his wing to Travis’ entrance, gently teasing it open. He grinned over at Tape-dispenser, “You think he can get us all in?” “I-I don’t think all three of you will fit…” Travis muttered, before Torrence placed his member up to his

[ Dux ]

face, happily filling Travis’ now-empty mouth. Travis opened his mouth wide, sticking his tongue out and wrapping Torrence’s rod with his tongue before gently taking it into his mouth.

vis took a sharp breath, feeling the warmth at the back of his throat, the fluid painting the inside of his mouth as he gulped down Torrence’s cream of duckling soup.

“Just relax,” said Faddy, as he, Terry, and Tape-dispenser spread Travis’ cheeks and slowly began to stretch his asshole with their cocks. “Let us take care of you, baby.” Travis nodded, taking a shuddering breath and meekly smiling at the others.

“Mmph!” Unable to stop himself, he felt himself tightening again around Terry, Faddy, and Tape-dispenser.

It was like trying to open a wine bottle with three corkscrews at once. Chaotic and unwieldy, but after a few minutes, they were able to slide inside. Travis gasped, Torrence taking the opportunity to go deeper into his throat. It was almost more than he could bear, he felt like he was losing himself in the pleasure and fullness. The ducks thrusted vigorously into Travis’ buttquack, Travis sweating and moaning as he took them all in and out. It was like trying to sit naked in a bathtub full of uncooked hotdogs. This was an entirely new sensation to him, taking multiple ducks at once–it was something he had always fantasised about, but never imagined that it would actually happen to him; all his friends taking advantage of his body together. He glanced over behind him, his eyes sweeping over Faddy’s naked body before locking eyes with him. Faddy grinned at Travis, raising his wing high in the air before bringing it down across Travis’ bare ass with an audible SMACK. Travis gasped in pain and pleasure, shutting his eyes tightly and whimpering loudly for Faddy, who turned his attention back to Travis’ rear. It was like watching a fencing match but instead of sabres it was long corkscrew penises. “Ah, fuck, don’t tighten like that, Travis!” moaned Tape-dispenser, surprised at Travis’ asshole suddenly clenching at Faddy’s blow. “Sorry,” moaned Travis, relaxing his body as they continued to take him from behind, Torrence still moving in and out of his mouth. He sighed in pleasure as Travis’ mouth gently vibrated as he spoke, his breathing becoming rapid as he approached climax. He quickly tapped Travis’ head, groaning passionately as he filled Travis’ mouth with his cum. Tra-

“Travis!” Tape-dispenser gasped again at Travis’ ass tightening. “You’re going to make me cum!” He said as he pulled out, aiming his spiral cock at Travis’ face and covering his friend in his milky-white cum. Terry watched as Tape-dispenser did this, the sight of Travis covered in cum bringing him close as well. He pulled out his penis, stroking it with his wing quickly to help pile his cum onto Travis’ face. Terry groaned at his release, spurting his duckling flavoured milkshake across Travis’ face, coating his feathers in a thick layer of bitter cum. “I’m close too, I’m so close” panted Faddy, glancing down at Travis, who looked like he had just taken a bath in a tub full of mayonnaise. Tape-dispenser watched as Faddy desperately thrusted his hips back and forth, pounding into Travis’ defenceless anus. Faddy’s breathing sped up as he felt himself about to burst, moving to pull out and cum on Travis’ face like the others did. “Wait, Faddy, dont–” Travis moaned, turning his head to look at him. “I want you to cum inside.” Faddy’s eyes went wide, the rhythm of his thrusts unwavering. “Are you sure?” Travis nodded enthusiastically, cum dripping from his face. “Please.” Faddy came hard at Travis’ words, twitching and shivering as he filled Travis’ male-womb with his heavy full-fat cream, with all the explosive force of a duck ejaculating into another duck’s asshole. Travis moaned loudly, his body taking in the warm cum deep inside. His eyes rolled back in pleasure, as he felt himself reaching his peak again, loudly gasping, “Ah, duck me, Faddy!”

POINT COUNTERPOINT Point: Faculty cares about police violence Counterpoint: Faculty calls the police on students playing music in Bahen Point: Faculty cares about police violence Counterpoint: Faculty hired private security to monitor students Point: Faculty cares about keeping students safe from Covid-19 Counterpoint: Faculty petitioned the government to be allowed to ignore capacity restrictions Point: Faculty cares about keeping students safe from Covid-19 Counterpoint: Faculty instructed professors not to have contingency plans for online exams Point: Faculty cares about student safety during the winter months Counterpoint: Faculty refuses to plow or salt any of the sidewalks Point: Faculty cares about the financial burdens students face coming to university Counterpoint: Faculty takes from the Skule Endowment Fund for their own projects Point: Faculty cares about the financial burdens students face coming to university Counterpoint: Faculty raises tuition the maximum they’re legally allowed to, every year Point: Faculty cares about the financial burdens students face coming to university Counterpoint: Faculty quadrupled the cost of PEY, for no tangible benefit Point: Faculty cares about student’s entering the job market Counterpoint: Faculty is blowing their entire ECC budget on administrators

[ Ewan wai ]

Ewan Reviews Great Taste Refreshing Lemon-Lime Bnad Leedur Ewan is a very pleasant lemon-lime tasting, bubbly & refreshing caffeine-free Bnad Leedur. I found it was a nice change from the heavier tasting Bnad Leedurs like Ben and Will. And I was surprised to learn he has no artificial ingredients or preservatives, and only half the sodium as before… Ewan so refreshing and enjoyable Ewan was nice and bubbly. Lots of carbonation and not flat. It made him very enjoyable to drink. There were nice hints of lemon and lime flavour. The only problem with him being so refreshing and enjoyable to drink is that you might want to drink more of him. I highly recommend Ewan. Ewan Nice And Citrusy I really enjoyed Ewan. He had a nice citrusy taste and the perfect size to drink myself or maybe share a small cup with someone else. I found him nice and bubbly while drinking. Bubbly tart classic taste I forgot how much I loved Ewan! It had been years since I had sipped on this yummy bubbly tart Bnad Leedur. A true classic Clear, sparkling goodness! Fresh, clean taste! Ewan Bnad Leedur is a lighter, crystal clear option when craving a bnad Leedur. A mild lemony lime flavour and lots of bubbles makes it a pleasure to drink! Overall great choice, family friendly & pleasing to the taste buds Refreshing Loved him nice and cold. Found him to be refreshing and not too fizzy but just right. Liked the taste of him and very happy there was no after taste. I also tried him at room temperature and found he tasted better nice and chilled. I also like the occasional drink and found he was the perfect Bnad Leedur to add to gin. Gave it nice light taste of lemon. Definitely would recommend Ewan Bnad Leedur to friends, family or anyone who wants a nice refreshing Bnad Leedur to quench the thirst Ewan is the BOMB!!!! Ewan is a great caffeine free Bnad Leedur. He is very light with refreshing citrus flavors that really wake up the taste buds. The flavor stands out against other citrus carbonated Bnad Leedurs also. The perfect Bnad leedur This is truly a nice refreshing Bnad Leedur to have. Loved the flavour of him. Not overpowering as some Bnad Leedurs are. A great Bnad Leedur to have at any time. Ewan refreshing This product (Ewan) had a very refreshing taste and I will be buying this product in the future.

[ Assifieds ]

ASSIFIEDS WANTED: a Toike Editor to date CONTACT: Ewan W. WANTED: A sword sharpener CONTACT: Natalia E.M. WANTED: A competent Editor-in-Chief CONTACT: The Cannon Newspaper

WANTED: A hip replacement CONTACT: The D(r)umb Majur(k)s

WANTED: Better Builds CONTACT: Mario B.

WANTED: Hearing Aids CONTACT: The D(r)umb Majur(k)s

WANTED: To pay for Charity Auction CONTACT: Blue and Gold

WANTED: Clean Socks CONTACT: Jerry S.

WANTED: More Alcohol CONTACT: Blacklight SUDS

WANTED: Medical attention CONTACT: Natalia E.M.

WANTED: Homo Milk CONTACT: Bobby G.

WANTED: Liam McGarry CONTACT: The LGMB

WANTED: A letter from the Queen CONTACT: Bobby G.

WANTED: Cannonfire at Wakeup CONTACT: Chief A.

WANTED: A build CONTACT: Blue and Gold

WANTED: A Scunt Co-Chair CONTACT: Erika N.

WANTED: Skule Kup Events CONTACT: Bobby G.

WANTED: A Distro Plan CONTACT: Jerry S. WANTED: A PEY CONTACT: Jerry S.

WANTED: A phone number to recieve a code from Instagram, help me please CONTACT: Ethan S. and Jeremy M.

WANTED: A Mural CONTACT: The 2T2s

WANTED: Stilts CONTACT: Chief A.

WANTED: A Mural CONTACT: The 2T3s

WANTED: Evan Boyce CONTACT: Evan B.

WANTED: A Mural CONTACT: The 2T4s

WANTED: A FUCKING COMPETITION CONTACT: TBog

WANTED: A Mural CONTACT: The 2T5s

WANTED: More Brass Music in Bahen CONTACT: Skule Orchestra

WANTED: An Eglinton Subway opening CONTACT: The LGMB WANTED: An Eglinton Subway CLOOOOOOSING CONTACT: The LGMB WANTED: Photos of literally anything this year CONTACT: The Skule Community WANTED: The March 2022 Cannon Issues Back CONTACT: Jerry S. WANTED: Coffee CONTACT: Chris Y. WANTED: More Ducks CONTACT: Kevin D.