The Week After Halloween Issue

The Plumber’s Volume XXXVII Issue II November 2021

Faucet

The Week-After Halloween Issue Cloudberry: Feed it, before it feeds on you

Art by Alex Lo

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. XXXVII No. II

CONTRIBUTERS

LETTER FROM THE EDITORS

Editors-In-Chief

Welcome to the spooky and scary halloween edition of The

Shaun Lalani Mason Persaud

Plumber’s Faucet, in which we celebrate the true horror

VP Comms

of the holiday weekend- The Week After. Traditionally,

Sophia Gorbounov

Halloween at McGill has always been a conglomeration of

Writers

Wade Radmore Shaun Lalani Mason Persaud

booze, candies and costumes. But the oft forgotten, real

Illustrators

known as Midterms awakens. So yes, while it is sad that

terror of halloween, lies in November when the monster

Alex Lo (Cover Art)

nobody recognized your Sexy-Oompa-Loompa costume

Disclaimer

The Plumber’s Faucet is a Publication of the Engineering Undergraduate Society of McGill University. The opinions expressed in the Faucet are not necessarily those of the EUS nor of any other university body, unless such opinion appears over an authorized signature of a representative of the said body. The Faucet does not print works which are sexist, libelous, racist, homophobic, or violating the copyright laws of Canada. It should be noted that some content is meant to be satirical or humourous in nature.

For general enquiries, contact faucet@mcgilleus.ca.

meant as a commentary on the plight of minimum-wage

Complaints

As you scurry to make up for the time you wasted drinking

The EUS takes complaints very seriously. All complaints should begin with the heading “Official Protest to Content in The Plumber’s Faucet”, and should be sent to vpcomm@mcgilleus.ca, publications.director@mcgilleus.ca, and faucet@mcgilleus.ca.

The Plumber’s Faucet vol. XXXVII no. II

workers forced to turn to Onlyfans as a secondary source of income in America, it is nowhere near as soul-crushing as the moment you realize you’re behind on prep for three midterms due later this week!

and partying all throughout the weekend, why not grab a copy of the Faucet and live through some of the horror-fests our writers have cooked up for you! From frigtening recollections of Con*ordia’s Haunted Campus, to the surreallnes of a Frosh with Charles Manson, you will be entertained! We also have a brilliant halloween themed-picture of Cloudberry on our cover you could post on r/McGill for some sweet karma!

In the end, we truly hope you enjoy this edition of the Faucet as much as we enjoyed making it! It’s our first in-person issue after a year, so give it some love :)

- Co-Editors In Chief, Mason Persaud & Shaun Lalani

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The Asbestos from the SSMU building is in my cereal….. And I absolutely love it!

by Shaun Lalani

If you’ve been left puzzled after reading that absurd title, let me assure you, I’m abso-fruitly serious! I mean how the hell has Big Cereal never thought about releasing an asbestos flavored monday morning breakfast snack yet?! Every child in Canada, no scratch that, in Russia, no scratch that, in Papua New Guinea, should be eating this naturally occurring fibrous silicate mineral which exists in six different types, all distinct due to their subatomic structure. I mean how cool is that, one flavor, six variations! I think my favorite part about asbestos cereal is really how the miniscule fibers are so small and sharp that they enter your body and lodge themselves into your lungs and digestive tract causing severe long-term damage to your body which could ultimately lead to death. A tasty white cereal which is freely accessible and can cause my permanent demise? Woowweee, SIGN ME UP! Another thing I love about Asbestos is how light it is! I can go to the SSMU building and just take a brick which is full of Asbestos. It’s molar mass is only 277.11g! I also love how easy it is to spot due to its Biaxial Optical Properties which are easily distinguishable using an electron microscope, which are like available only every-fucking-where!

I’m usually very critical of the SSMU, mostly because I have nothing better to do all day than to shit on them, but this time around, good job guys, good bloody job.

Also I wanted to take this opportunity to make people aware of the fact that my nurse of four years left me last week so I’m looking for someone who can deliver and insert a suppository into my rectal region because the asbestos has ravaged my digestive tract. I went to the doctor the other day and they said my small intestine is now mostly plastic. If you’re interested, please email the faucet@mcgilleus.ca with a resume of your suppository delivery experience and why you abso-fruitly love eating Asbestos! P.S: rubber gloves will be provided.

Sponsored Content Alert: This article was paid for and promoted by the Schulich Library of Physical Sciences, Life Sciences, and Engineering. This November, the library will be offering free asbestos all students brave enough to study there. Bring your books and breathe in some of the fresh asbestos Schulich has to offer*. *The Plumber’s Faucet or the Schulich Library are not responsible for any crippling addictions students may develop to asbestos. All liability shall be passed onto the Student’s Society of McGill University (SSMU)

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. XXXVII No. II

The Ballad of The Invisible Man

by Mason Persaud Once upon a time there was a man whom no one could see For all the eyes in the world, no one offered him tea He was forced to wear glasses, maybe a hat His only friends were a wolfman and a dude who can turn into a bat Every day, he yearns for love Awaiting for someone to pull off his glove Yet still he walks, completely unnoticed No one even asks him but his real name is Otis He wants to love a girl and feel that love back But most people see invisibility as a drawback He knows his friends are weird and he has a bad reputation But the invisible man yearns for some kind of flirtation He once had a girl who left him cold She got scared whenever he came near to hand-hold She left in the morning before he woke You can’t see it but his heart was broke The invisible man was dealt life’s bad hand He was doomed to be a monster even though he wants to start a band He practiced his piano every day in anticipation But no one wanted to play jazz with a man who’s seen as an abomination The invisible man lives for his dreams Yet he’s bound to be a monster, his art bursting at the seams Sure it’s funny when he drinks water and you can see it in his tummy But the invisible man is tired of being the world’s dummy

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He’s tried hobbies, school, and even tinder Nothing’s worked, allowing the invisible man’s blues to linger Dracula’s a bore and the Mummy has drifted away Leaving the invisible man yearning for when they were all happy together, that one fine day On the outside, he’s completely clear But look inside, you can see the fear So what will become of the invisible man?

He’s alone now but he’ll never stop searching for his invisible Anne.

Pictured: The Invisble Man (left-center) performng a complex post-renaissance dance form dedicated to his muse Annie at the World Fair Expo 1967.

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. XXXVII No. II

House of Horrors: Fear-Hungry McGill Students visit Concordia’s Shithole Campus for Halloween Scares!

by Wade Radmore In the spirit of Halloween, a group of naive first-years made their way to the nightmarish hellscape of McGill refusal letters and alcohol poisoning known as Concordia University. Well- perhaps the McGill students brought the alcohol poisoning, but Concordia definitely brought the horrors. I, on the behalf of The Plumber’s Faucet, had the privilege of interviewing Stephen Allcock, one of the brave students willing to face the terror of Concordia’s campus.

“I didn’t even realize it was a university at first,” said Allcock., “We thought it was maybe an abandoned mental asylum or a landfill. With all the rats there, my buddy even thought it might’ve just been a library for McGill business students.” But, it was neither. What Allcock and his friends had stumbled upon was Concordia’s shithole campus. I have never witnessed the horror for myself, nor would I wish such a nightmare upon any of our fine readers, thus, we shall allow Allcock to be our all-seeing eyes.

“The grounds were littered with these grotesque zombies. They had the musk of someone majoring in Engineering, but not only that, they had the despair of someone majoring in Engineering.” said Allock. “While there, one of the horrible beasts invited us to their dorm. Of course, we wanted the whole haunted house experience so we followed along.” On his experience inside this feral Engineer’s dorm, Allcock said, “Shit wasn’t bussin’.”

Allcock’s findings on the haunted manor only confirm the results of a recent survey of McGill students: “Concordia: Still shithole campus.” Allcock’s adven-

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ture confirmed that even the freakish ghouls and sobbing ghosts of the haunted house seconded this survey’s findings.

One especially disgusting creature, referring to himself as a ‘business student’, told Allcock, “Yeah, I wanna take the “cord” from Con-cord-ia and use it to choke myself until I pass out and forget I ever went to this shithole.” We at the Faucet are never surprised by business students’ unwavering resolve in their lack of campus loyalty as they endeavour to be the most hated breed of human.

All students should love their campus and therefore, Concordia students should love their shithole. This example just goes to confirm the results of another recent survey of McGill students: “Desautels: Still shithole program.”

One of Allcock’s friends, John Bluepath, also told us his own story of the pieceof-shit campus. “This semester has already been very difficult. I’m failing all of my classes, I can’t find a way to make rent, and I was just diagnosed with clinical depression,” said Bluepath. “But hey, at least I’m not at Concordia. Then I’d actually hate my life.”

With horrific stories like this coming from Concordia, we as McGill students are reminded of the supernatural terrors that lay beyond our campus walls. Who is to say that we ourselves aren’t haunted? Some students claim that the ghost of James McGill haunts Burnside basement, having heard the sounds of ominous racial slurs coming from the walls. While this has yet to be confirmed, I’d argue that certainly sounds like James McGill. Others claim it may have been caused by the new and controversial “Quebec Nationalist Society” club. These accusations, of course, were thrown their way due to their recent criticism of McGill’s lack of pride for Quebecois values. to the university, their club leader was quoted saying, “They just aren’t racist enough.” (Translated from French) So while the monsters of Halloween may haunt both McGill and Concordia, future McGill graduates can at least be glad that their resumes will always get them better jobs than those of graduates of Concordia “Shithole Campus” University.

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. XXXVII No. II

Five McGill Facts That Will Chill You to Your Bone!

by Chad Brade Finding out that McGill has another campus No we aren’t talking about Concordia where McGill rejects go soul-searching. We are talking about a campus that is officially McGill. A campus only successfully accessible by a shuttle. A campus where people are green and care about things like divesting. A place where you are forced to explore due to the beautiful leafy campus which perpetually smells like the bathrooms in Leacock 132 (manure, eh?). Yes such a campus exists, and it’s called MacDonald *shudder*. Mind you, not the kind where you can get french fries. Just potatoes.

Never go there. You’ve been warned.

Finding out about Project MKUltra, which saw the CIA perform psychological experiments on McGill students in a bid to get them to watch Love Island.

No we aren’t talking about Concordia where McGill rejects go soul-searching. We are talking about a campus that is officially McGill. A campus only successfully accessible by a shuttle. A campus where people are green and care about things like divesting. A place where you are forced to explore due to the beautiful leafy campus which perpetually smells like the bathrooms in Leacock 132 (manure, eh?). Yes such a campus exists, and it’s called MacDonald *shudder*. Mind you, not the kind where you can get french fries. Just potatoes.

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November 2021

Finding out about the 8:30 at McMed in the Winter Why McGill? Why?

Finding out about those kids doing a group “study session” in the cybertheque pods.

I still hear them sometimes, deep in my sleep, even though I have forsaken that place. I see them laughing in there, loudly, in the middle of finals season. But nobody will stop them. They just laugh and laugh. They tell themselves, “These pods are soundproof dude.” But they aren’t. THEY AREN’T.

Finding out that people outside the McGill bubble don’t speak English I remember when this first happened to me, I was trying to order some coffee at this cafe on St. Denis and Sherbrooke and the cashier just casually walked up to me and talked to me in French. What? Is there no decency in this world anymore? No person should be verbally assaulted like this, let alone for an order. I learned the hard way, but be warned reader, venture outside the bubble and you risk being spoken to “en francais” Spooooky.

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Tales From Frosh: My Frosh Leader is Charles Manson!?

by Mason Persaud

It was a brisk late summer morning when I met my frosh group. I didn’t expect to enjoy myself, given that I’m a lonesome arts major studying puppetry and Russian clowning. I only signed up for frosh because I thought I could meet some people who liked ventriloquism, papaya, and traditional Russian folk music like me. When I arrived on campus and found my frosh group, I was shocked by their whole look. There were three women, and then my frosh leader who had sort of a stinky-folk-musician vibe. Susan, Linda, and Squeaky were the girls’ names and Chuck was the leader. All the women seemed to coordinate their outfits and wore these loose flowing tunics that looked somewhere between a dashiki and divorced-art-teacher clothes. We began to walk around the city on a tour and I had no idea what I was about to get myself into.

Chuck led the tour with a guitar in hand, confirming my suspicions about this guy being one of those barefoot-guitar assholes. He sang songs about very obscure biblical figures like Linus and Zoab, fighting lizards for Satan’s amusement. It took me a while to figure out the Satan part because he kept on singing every song from the perspective of Satan, as if Chuck thought he was the dark lord himself. Squeaky and Linda would sing along in that weird Yoko Ono dolphin call type thing but I really didn’t question it. I honestly just figured they were all English majors.

It started to get weird when Susan came up to me and said, “Charlie is the greatest isn’t he? I think I’m in love!” and I just politely nodded along because I wanted to make friends. The other two girls said the same thing to me later. They were so horny for Chuck even though he spent 40 minutes giving us new names. At some point we landed at a local restaurant and Chuck or-

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dered two pieces of burnt toast and a hamburger patty chopped up in pieces.

I ordered a salad and the girls were about to order, until Chuck pulled out a thermos from his jacket and poured the girls a soup that looked like laundry water and smelt like root beer. I thought it was gross but the girls were very happy about it. We all dug in and Chuck ate his greasy food viciously while the girls loved their soup.

Eventually the day came to an end as we arrived at the steps of Chuck’s apartment. He called it his “compound” and invited us all up. I walked into the largely empty apartment which had a ten-person camping tent and a hot plate with a can of chickpeas on it. There was a singular Beatles poster on the wall with lipstick painted on John Lennon’s face and another wall with a bunch of doodles taped up drawn on crumpled-up notebook paper. The doodles were mostly of nude women with goat heads so I figured he was into some kind of cool sub-genre of art that I wasn’t cool or creepy enough to know. Soon he began to speak gibberish and led us into his ten-person tent which smelt like uncooked instant ramen noodles and Satan, but I said I had diarrhea as an excuse and quickly left the apartment. Chuck and the girls only smiled and said they thought diarrhea was “groovy baby” which I had no response to.

Overall, I’m disturbed by my only Frosh experience. I wasn’t sure whether Chuck and the gang were a bunch of hipster art people who were just too excited to be doing frosh or if they were a group of mentally-disturbed individuals who sought the leadership of a bearded man who had an obsession with gibberish words, animals, and the weird songs on The White Album by The Beatles. Either way I’m sure they weren’t dangerous. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from my time in Montreal, it’s that weird hipsters are relatively harmless. Why should my frosh leader Charles “Chuck” Manson and his friends Squeaky, Susan, and Linda be any different?

The end… Or is it!?

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. XXXVII No. II

Horrible halloween puns I stole from Buzzfeed and then added some McGill stuff too so that I can sound original

by Shaun Lalani

I am not very creative. Also I am really lazy. So here’s a shitty listicle (who the fuck invented this word?) of horrendous halloween puns I stole from the liberals on buzzfeed.com cause I am too lazy to come up with any myself. Also I added some McGill stuff around it so it looks a little original and I don’t get booked for plagiarism. Also this article is in Comic Sans, cause fuck you, that’s why. Now read it and weep.

1) Why are all MCGILL mummies workaholic? They are afraid to unwind.

2) What happens when a ghost blows its nose AT A GERTS NIGHT OUT? He looks at the Boo-gers.

3) Why do BURNSIDE vampires use mouthwash? They have bat breath.

4) Did you hear about the FROSH LEADER guy who was bitten by a vampire? It was a pain in the neck.

5) Why do MCGILL ENGINEER’S skeleton’s make such good comedians? They have so many funny bones.

6) Ok, I’ll admit, that last one doesn’t even make sense.

7) But what do you expect? Pulitzer level journalism?

8) All my friends are out today, but I’m writing a “LiStiCle”.

9) Honestly, I am not even this sour in real life.

10) I’ve just had a really bad day is all.

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11) I was using the restroom in Leacock after a really tough midterm and some clown decided it would be really funny to single-ply all the toilet paper.

12) Like this toilet paper is already cheap af, and now it’s single ply. Why do people do things like this?

13) And then I come home and find out my roommate has eaten my leftovers from last night.

14) “It was gonna go bad bro.”

15) I had untoasted bread with ketchup on it. Yes. Ketchup.

16) And then it turns out I failed my midterm too. I checked my notes after and somehow I got every single question wrong. In a MCQ test.

17) Even statistics can’t save me from being a trainwreck.

18) Anyway I only need like 20 points for this shitty article.

19) So here’s a riddle or something, I don’t know.

20) How does a person whose life has no order, no structure, no hope, compensate for their failures? They write a fucking listicle.

Editor’s Note: If you’re depressed, have hit rock-bottom, and think your life can’t get any worse, come write for The Plumber’s Faucet, we can make those thoughts come true!

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. XXXVII No. II

I tried to dress up as a one-year old for my halloween costume. Here’s how it went.

by Alex Lo & Shaun Lalani

October 30, 2021 Dear Diary,

I’ve made up my mind to dress up as a one-year old this halloween. But to perfect my costume, I can’t just dress the part of a one-year old, I need to feel like a one-year old. I need to get into the mindset of a one-year old. I need to BE a one-year old. So today I spent the entire day pretending to be a one-year old. Below is a log of my day: 7h15: Woke up, cried loudly to wake my roommate up.

7h30: Roommate came in, was pissed. I ignored him and went back to sleep.

9h00: Woke up again, peed my pants. Cried out loudly for my roommate. Told him I needed a diaper change, he threw his phone at me.

10h00: Finally got off the bed, crawled to the fridge. Started eating roommates baby carrots.

10h15: Roommate was not happy, called me a dumbfuck, said he was going out cause he couldn’t deal with my shit right now. I continued eating the carrots.

10h30: Almost choked on a carrot. Luckily puked all over my clothes. Continued eating carrots after.

11h00: Knock on the door, it was the landlady. I had to crawl to the door myself cause I was left unsupervised. Child protection services ought to look into this.

11h10: Landlady looked confused when I opened the door. Didn’t dwell on it though, demanded rent since it was due last week. I started to cry. She left. Worked out better than expected.

11h30: Drew picture of my landlady, she scares me. Feel asleep before I could colour it in. Nap time!

Godzilla (my landlady) invading my apartment so she can steal my rent. Joke’s on her, I don’t have any money to begin with.

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15h30: Got woken by my girlfriend. I forgot we had scheduled a date for today. She looked disgusted.

15h31: “What is wrong with you? You skip out on our date, don’t answer my calls, and I find you here like this? Why are you wearing a onesie and why do you smell like shit? Honestly I don’t even wanna know. Do you even love me anymore?”

15h32: I am a baby. I don’t understand relationships. I tried to grab her breast for nourishment.

15h33: She slapped me. “I hate you. We’re done.” Left with her belongings. Gee I hope she closed the door, I don’t know how to lock it.

19h00: Got notification on my phone. It’s an email. ‘From Donald Davis. You did not come to class for your midterm today.

Since you did not let me know about your absence, I have no choice but to give you an F on your 50% midterm. I am willing to let you push this weightage to your final if you have a valid reason fo your absence, please reply to this email if this is the case.’ I stare blankly at the screen.

19h05: Can’t reply, babies don’t understand technology. Channel my frustration into another art piece.

Giant Scarecrow (Donald Davis) nourishing itself on coffee and the tears of students.

21h00: Roommate just returned. “Hey man, I can’t do this anymore. You act like an asshole, you don’t pay your rent and you don’t respect boundaries. I talked to Sandra (landlady) and we’ve agreed to push you off the lease. Here’s you eviction notice, you need to get your stuff out of here by tomorrow.”

21h01: I eat eviction notice. Babies eat paper right?

21h02: Start to cry after. I don’t think this is cosplay anymore.

23h00: It’s way past my bedtime, but I don’t think anyone actually cares.

23h30: Can’t fall asleep, too many things in my head. Maybe this was a bad idea.

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Join Queer Engineer!

Queer Engineer is an EUS Club that works towards promoting awareness and providing a safe and welcoming environment for all members of the LGBTQ+ community in engineering.

We organize multiple events throughout the year such as meet and greets, activities and outings, networking events, and study parties. All are welcome to participate, and we greatly encourage anyone who is interested in having a great time to come on by this coming year. It’s a great way to make new friends and learn more about LGBTQ+ culture.

For more info, please check out our Facebook page or email us at

queer.engineer@mcgilleus.ca.

Join McGill Improv!

McGill Improv hosts weekly workshops every Thursday! 6pm-8pm @ SSMU Ballroom No prior experience is required and all levels are welcomed!

We do both short and long format improv! Check our facebook out at McGill Improv and come to our performances this term!

For more info email us at mcgillimprov@gmail.com

WRITE FOR THE FAUCET!!

PLEASE READ THIS!!!!

We need writers, illustrators, editors, all the help we can get!

You should join us here at The Plumber’s Faucet! It’s super low commitment, develops your comedic skills, gets you published in a humour magazine, and is a great way to get new friends and slip into the McGill comedy world.

We literally consider ANY mildly humorous submission, beginner or no. We publish our magazine’s once a month (or whenever Cuthulu demands)!

For submissions and questions on how to be more involved, email us:

faucet@mcgilleus.ca

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