Issue 16.7

IN THIS ISSUE: TWITTER OFFICALLY STANS LIFELONG ABSTINENCE AND NON-VIRGINS ARE W CANCELLED CA A T H SH O L U ’S IC N PU U M BL BE IC R AT 1 IO N

WUnderground VALENTINE'S DAY

VOLUME 16, ISSUE 7

BURIED WUNDERGROUND Upstanding First Year Regular-Exiles Roomate Page NOT 69

Op-Ed: Pee is Too Sexual

That’s why I Don’t Page NOT 5,318,008

Another Victim of Pornography Explains That He is “Okay” Page Jesus

The Merits of Kink-Shaming, by Howard M. Spink Page Rage Cage Mage

Six Flavored Condoms Best Enjoyed On Their Own Page 5 Feet Apart

The Birds and the Bees: Who Would Win in a Fight?

Page Fifty-Sex

The Birds and the Bees: the Physics of Flight, Explained in 6 Mathematical Algorithms” Page Fifty-Seven

"Virginitee is greet perfeccioun"

- Chaucer

PRICE: 2 GIRLS, ONE GRAIL

Celibate BDSM: ESPN's Newest Extreme Sport ESPN reporters have recently announced that a new, family-friendly sport will soon hit the air this spring: celibate BDSM. Citing a shortage of “good, clean, bondage-related sports that have NOTHING to do with sex,” we attended the St. Louis Celibate BDSM Conference to learn more. Avid celibate-BDSM fan Tie Bound is here to comment.

“What? Oh, I’m just here to watch,” Tie says staring off into the distance, while twirling a human whip in his hand. Tie declined to comment further as he had tightened his leather choker, hindering his ability to speak.

Here to explain the rules is three-time Silver Finisher, Ed GePlay. “It’s pretty simple, honestly,” Ed explains, plucking leather assless chaps from his crack. “First one to pop a boner loses. That’s it,” Ed contends. “Oh fuck…..

Looks like I just lost,” Ed GePlay also tells us about his mentor, Master Dom Topper, who first showed him the ropes of celibate BDSM: “There are nylon ropes, spiked ropes, and of course your clas-

sic cotton ropes.”

Local priest, Father Tug Fondle, weighed in on the Christianity-approved family friendly sport and where the church stands on celibate BDSM. “I’ve been playing with my altar boys for years,” Father Tug contends, sweating a bit

on his palms. “I see nothing wrong with it, and I feel closer to God while we play together,” Fondle states, while brandishing his crucifix to be used in an upcoming game.

Stay tuned, gather your family and prepare your leather chaps because celibate BDSM is coming to ESPN this spring.

NEW EXTREME SPORT: BDSM

Douchebags have Culturally Appropriated "BodyCount" from Serial Killers, and it Must End As new generations engage with the English language words continuously take on new and informal meanings. It’s the cycle of slang. I am shocked and mortified, however, by the rampant misuse of “body count” in reference to sinful and sexual acts. The youth have shamefully reduced a once powerful phrase to arbitrary drivel. The body count is—has always been—an explicit and straightforward system. If you want to up your body count

correctly, you must kill people.

Back in my day, “body count” used to mark a respectable achievement. It demonstrated the strength of one’s character, the extent of one’s resourcefulness, and the confidence to defend one’s honor. We the people ought to aspire to slit throats, not deep-throat. My fifteen tear-drop tattoos are not a result of promiscuity, oh no. Each one symbolizes the capture of a human life, never to be seen or heard from again.

Before my incarceration, each day I would wake up, buckle my chastity belt, collect the dagger from my bedside table, and head out into the hunting ground. God, there is something so calming about the mundanity of routine.

Did you notice what wasn’t part of that routine? Fornication.

Some of you toss sheets into the machine every week that look like they’ve been hit by a Super Soaker of semen. Meanwhile, the only extra laundry I used to do was some dabs of hydrogen peroxide here and there (helps with the blood).

So, stop bragging about your “body count” when all you have done is sleep with someone, you assholes. Otherwise, the second I get out of prison, I’ll make you part of mine. At the end of the day, I may have been caught for one of my crimes, but at least I’ve never caught an STD. This article was submitted anonymously by an inmate in partnership with Prisoner Press.

VOLUME 16, ISSUE 7

VALENTINE'S DAY

Platonic Flash Fanfic

WUNDERGROUND

We here at WUnderground know that you common gutter-snipes love your dirty, lowlife “fan fictions.” And frankly, you drooling ravenous proles and your pornographic literature disgust us. While we live under Jesus’ roof, we follow Jesus’ rules. To save your filthy souls, we wrote you some smut that’s fun for the whole family. Enjoy, and may the Lord have mercy on you all.

Winter Rain

WUnderground is WashU’s premier (only) satirical newspaper and should be taken about as seriously as the artistic merit of the show "Euphoria".

Outside, a cold rain falls—violently, incessantly. But the drafty room is bathed in candlelight, and the scent of pine wafts lazily from the rafters. One listless hand wanders the roughened landscape of his jacket pocket. Searching, but for what? For the answers? He won’t find them here. He feels something. Fear? Arousal? Definitely not arousal, for he is a man of integrity. Nay—anticipation for all that lies ahead. He gazes out the window: at the rain-slicked Burlington street; at the ghosts of old regrets; at the promise of a brighter, more equitable future. And Bernie Sanders smiles.

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

Moving Fast

OVERLORDS

He’s well oiled—every curve glistens as he glides down the aisle. He smirks, a grin spreading across his face. He knows what he wants, and he’s going to get it.

She taps him on one glossy shoulder. “Can I help you? I’ve been watching you linger.”

“Actually,” says Lightning McQueen, “you can.”

They look each other in the eye, and in that instant, she knows exactly what he’s here for. She takes a deep breath.

“The Neutrogena face wash is in aisle three,” she says. “You’ll find it on the top shelf—it’s two for one this week.”

“Thank you very much,” says Lightning McQueen. “I hope you have a nice day.”

And, satisfied, he glides out of Walgreens as quickly as he had come.

Inside the Cave She furrows her dark brow, slender thighs straddling her armchair. “But if it’s all you’ve ever known,” she says, “then darkness is all you can trust.” Her curve, the color of brown, glistens against her milky white glove as she strokes the M emblazoned on her bare chest.

“I agree,” murmurs the Green M&M, “but Plato’s Allegory of the Cave isn’t quite so simple.” She removes one stiletto, then the other—the heels click sharply against the hardwood floor. “Your exposure to external stimuli and the worldview you cultivate thereby does not corrode the validity of realities perceived by those whose worldviews do not match yours.”

The Brown M&M smiles, saccharine, at her companion. “I read a very interesting paper last week,” she breathes, “in which the author posits that so long as we all understand our own realities to be objective, no reality can be such; it is only in understanding the subjectivity of all things that we cement their being.”

“That’s cool.” Slowly, the Green M&M approaches the armchair, one brow raised in non-erotic interest. “I can’t read, though.”

PLATONIC PERSONAL ADS

Henry Wineburgh

Hannah Anderson

Max Lichtenstein

Henry Wineburgh is 6’1” of pure untapped friendship potential.

He’s looking for some boys to toss around a disc with and definitely not admire their chiseled mold. Absolutely nothing sexual. Shoot him a message if you wanna talk about sports, or nuclear energy, but definitely not sex positions or hugging.

Hannah Anderson is a sophomore writer whose singular friend is moving away, and thus she requires a new one! Her previous friend’s responsibilities included but were not limited to: letting her be the green pawns in Sorry! (even though green was their favorite color; they’re not mad about it or anything), dabbing her face with tissues after she cries about Tom Hanks (but not in an intimate way), and watching reruns of the Wiggles (but only the Fruit Salad episode). Interested parties may slide into her DMs on TikTok.

Max Lichtenstein is our Editor-in-Chief. He has felt rather lonely recently in bro-related circumstances.

He was doing bicep curls the other day and, when he looked in the mirror, there was no one staring back.

Above all else, Max needs someone to spot him at the gym, but not in a way that would involve grabbing his hips or the small of his back. Please only initiate contact if he begins to lose his balance. Otherwise, keep all appendages a safe 5 inches away at all times. Once he reaches a - Enjoys listening to jazz, but new bench PR, you will be liking jazz is not really rerelieved of your services. quired for this friendship.

Once again, all that is required - Biiiiiiiiiggg Radiohead fan, is that you do not intend to which is notoriously the fuck him. most celibate band.

- More of a dog person than - Hates the beach. Absoa cat person, but you totally lutely fucking hates the can be a cat person if for some beach. reason that means you’re less likely to want to bang.

- Desperate.

- Has a 13 inch penis.

- Studied abroad in Ireland, a famously sterile land.

- Is an Econ major, the least sexy of all fields of study.

- Likes Pokemon.

- Has a firm handshake, which is inapplicable to any other context.

- Down to give non-sensual foot massages.

- She plays bass and is looking to join a band where they don’t have interband sex. Please no musical or sexual tension whatsoever.

Jonah Brody Jonah Brody is a sophomore writer who can’t seem to stop fucking. Above all, Jonah just needs one friendship with someone who he has not fucked, is not currently fucking, and will not fuck in the future. Jonah is looking for a friend of any gender, ethnicity, or socioeconomic status, as long as they remain completely platonic, and are in no way looking to have sex with him even though he is irresistably sexy. At the end of the day, Jonah wants to occasionally walk into rooms where he has not already fucked everyone in that room.

Max Lichtenstein took a pledge of abstincence in 6th grade health class Mikki Janower afraid of children Rohit Kumar saving it for marriage Henry Wineburgh saving 15% on car insurance

MIDDLELORDS Collin Wettach

UNDERLORDS Rahul Oza Max Woods Arjun Puri Jack Killeen Alex Levy Carlie Darefsky Kirsten Holland Nicholas LaMorte Samson Seley Lila Puziss Hannah Anderson Jon Niewjik Katie Liguori Abbey Rose Ako Sarfo Carina Greenberg Isabelle Roig Jonah Brody Michelle Eisenberg Will LeVan Wyatt Pelton Lydia Nickels Kamy Chong Julia Birnbach Josh Keller Jonathan Cher

LAYOUT TROLLS Jess King wanted to start a Youtube channel called Jess Kidding as a child Zoe Cooke also a massive virgin If you would like to write, edit, fund our money-laundering scheme, etc. email us at wunderground@wustl.edu

ISSN # 1938-0089 wunderground.wustl.edu

VOLUME 16, ISSUE 7

VALENTINE'S DAY

Op-ed : in Defense of Those Two Married Wash U Freshman Couples, and How They’re Doing It Right

How to View Vegetables Non-Sexually

By Richard Siemen

Vegetables were invented 10,000 years ago by hunter-gatherers who were tired of eating meat only. At first, vegetables were purely used for Christian purposes, merely consumed for their nutrients rather than being used to stimulate sexual pleasure. As time progressed and vegetables got larger, plumper, and more phallic, however, society digressed and began to use vegetables for more perverted ends.

When I walk into the grocery store today, I am disgusted by the wide array of sexual and pornographic vegetables available for purchase. Luscious, round, meaty eggplants. Long, cylindrical, girthy carrots. Deep green, textured, lengthy zucchini. I am enraged, to say the least. We, as a society, need

to learn to view vegetables non-sexually; I believe we are stuck in a sex filled era, preventing us from evolving to a new golden era of purity, celibacy, and righteousness.

I ask that the average consumer simply purchase vegetables for the SOLE purpose of consumption.

Please do not stick these nutritious and hearty vegetables into your rectum or genitalia; serve them to your children and loved ones. Vegetables were created to nurture the people, not provide them with grotesque and immoral pleasure. I ask that we as a society hold hands and pledge to take our vegetables and serve them as what they were meant to be: a food source. #MyDietNotMyDildo

In these troubled times, in the midst of this sin-plagued campus, there remains one beacon of chastity and hope. To those married WashU freshman couples - hats off to you, folks, and thank you for upholding yourselves as moral icons (assuming, of course, that they are still celibate).

Sure, they’re a little late on the marriage bandwagon—I mean, a mere several centuries ago they’d have joined in holy matrimony at the ripe old age of 13—but bear with me here: I think their marriage is not only forgivable, but commendable.

Sure, I’ve been off about this stuff before—REALLY off—but I really have a good feeling about these couples. There’s no way they’d tarnish the sanctity of marriage with something as God-forbidden as Sex! The more I think about it, the more obvious it is that they’re not banging. I mean, have you SEEN those little rascals? Their eyes are as pure and full of life as their

hearts, their arms are like noodles protruding from their cherubic and soft shoulders, and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen them order Connie’s Choice on PURPOSE. These kids are VIRGINS—and not, like, Jesusdoesn’t-check-the-back-door virgins, but authentic, Swiss-manufactured, capital-V Virgins — pure as the crystalline waters of the Yukon river.

This is just to say: they’ve shown admirable restraint in their obvious lack of horizontal refreshment, and I applaud them.

This is excellent; not only does it cement their spot on Santa’s nice list, but it also brings them one step closer to Our Lord and Savior: the inimitable rabbit-cheeked Tucker Carlson, who—like our heroes— has almost certainly never done the dirty.

We can only hope that, like sweet, beady-eyed Carlson, these couples maintain their trajectory towards dying nobly as virgins.

Op-Ed: Post Marital Sex is Also Not Okay Premarital sex is wrong. We can all agree on that much. There’s a disturbing movement in academia, however, which would have you believe that post-marital sex is totally acceptable.

I disagree. Post-marital sex is not acceptable, nor is it good, nor is it “sex-y.”

Here’s a simple syllogism: A. The essence of premarital sex is that it is sex.

B. Premarital sex is not okay.

C. Post-marital sex is also sex. __________________________________________ D. Therefore, post-marital sex is also not okay.

That’s just simple logic, folks. The liberal media cannot change the facts, no matter how hard they lie (I’m looking at you, ABC Family).

Furthermore, it’s icky. It’s absolutely yucky and I say “ew” whenever I think about it. Penises, vaginas, the whole shebang. Much like drug use and “Push-It pops,” its ickiness only adds to its blatant immorality.

Everywhere you look nowadays you see post-marital sex. In people’s houses, in people’s beds…it’s an epidemic. I will personally see to it that everyone stops having premarital, post-marital, and even mid-marital sex. It’s all bad, and it’s all wrong, and that’s all I have to say about that.

Brick Casey

OPINIONS Point: Frequent Sexual Activity Has Been Linked to Longer Life Expectancy

Counterpoint: Sex Kills

By: Dr. Fucchs

WUnderground

General Practitioner, Heretic

Peer-reviewed studies have shown that a healthy sex life can actually be linked to a longer life! Frequent sex means more exercise, stress relief, and even a stronger immune system in many cases. The medical literature agrees: Sex is good for you—and it just might prolong your life.

By: Max Lichtenstein President, Abstinence Advocate

That’s nonsense. Bullshit. Absolute malarky.

In a school-wide survey that WUnderground released 5 minutes ago, we found that 100% of respondents who had had sex were dead.

That’s right, sex doesn’t make you healthy, sex makes you dead. You know who doesn’t have sex? Alive people. If you don’t believe me, you can go ahead and check our research model, but we’d really rather you didn’t. In fact, just please take our word on this one.

Yes, all the results are self-reported, but we trust the honesty and integrity of our dead student body. The numbers are in: see you in Hell, fuckers.

VOLUME 16, ISSUE 7

VALENTINE'S DAY

Ask an Incel

TOP 10...

Alternatives to Sex

Dear Mr. Rod,

Dear Incel, You’re so good at maintaining your virginity. I’m constantly surrounded by beautiful, bootylicious ladies thirsting after my Action Jackson, and I struggle with how often I’m propositioned for sex; how can I protect my purity and continue to stand with God rather than succumb to the demands of my uncut gems?

Thanks, Max Rod

Thanks for reaching out! Man, if I had a nickel for every time I’ve been propositioned - I mean, seriously, all these sexy singles in my area need to get a grip - I sure would have some nickels. Yeah, it must be rough for both of us having all of those bootylicious ladies thirsting after us. Luckily, you came ;) to the right place. According to the last woman who had to explain to me why she wouldn’t have sex with me, part of it was because she “barely knew me” and “I clearly don’t shower and smell like shit.” (As a sidenote, damn you, Tammy - you ruined my Tuesday, you heartless bitch) Have you tried surrounding yourself with unfamiliar people and/or neglecting your personal hygiene? I’ve found that’s worked all too well for me.

Dear Incel, I hate my sniveling little rat boy husband. He's so embarrassed of me, he won't even take me to rallies anymore - I think he's still going through that phase where he pretends we're straight. It's starting to take its toll - the other day, he greeted me with a firm handshake and a "how do you do." I'm sick of him; should I become an Incel, too?

Carl Hung

11.

Buy wool mittens

10.

Cry?

9.

Get sober

Dear Chasten B.,

8.

Read a good movie synopsis

7.

Ride an elevator up and down or something

6.

Masturbate

5.

Go to Ursa's

4.

Go to Ursas’ North Campus location

Wow, even I wouldn't stoop for someone like that.

Yes, I suppose that's in order.

Best of luck!

Incel

Dear Carl Hung,

Dear Incel,

Thanks,

Add a lil extra pepper to your salad

Yours truly (please), Incel

Love, Chasten B.

I love being a sexless man—I’d never even beat my meat, let alone double-dip it in sexytime sauce. But my brilliant new wife (and better half of nine years) says that sex is part and parcel of the marriage situation. What do you think, incel?

Do I have to surrender my precious virginity to be a dutiful husband to my beloved?

12.

I’ve got sad news for you, brother-in-sexlessness: marriage is a scam manufactured by government thugs to bamboozle righteous men into makin’ whoopee. Unless you drop that bitch like a burnt TV dinner, you’ve gotta do the deadly deed, dude. You’re better off spending your life alone—waking up sweat-soaked and painfully aware of the looming inevitability that the rest of your days will be reduced to an endless solitary slog towards death. Aware that, in twenty years, you’ll be exactly where you are today: trudging, head lowered, down a rain-slicked road, from the Cheeto-dusted shambles of your studio apartment to the hollowed-out skeleton of what used to be a Walgreens.

Only through this deep and resonant loneliness will you be able to protect your most cherished possession: your unpopped man-cherry. Hope this helps!

3.

Keep me updated,

Petition for a third Ursa’s location

2.

Make Jello

1.

Tell your parents you love them

Incel

WHAT DO YOU THINK? I just had sex. WDYT?

PASTOR WALLACE

NICOLE

Moral Human

Moral Human

GUY IN YOUR ECONOMICS CLASS

JERRY

GEORGE WASHINGTON

Extremely Moral Human

Fun fact: had no biological children

Trying to study economics

“Gross!”

“Yuck!”

“Ew! Will you stop?!

I am trying to study economics!”

"What is 'sex?"

“I’ve never had sex in my entire goddamn life.”