Oyeputa, wind gargle through, pronter Peter and Judas’ cock crowed thrice prithistle thrice! Me carcass sways the nasador o’ the gosling—so dulcent so swift so suckle throwt me prested-woken’d yarble. We congesterize, we attendrate. Aye, say ye, Detenance! Strem and scream and helter skelter. Aye non, me says, poot your civimaggot away to rot and pointandpoint follow.
Wont thy scuchmachine to chinwagin me, yon the babe gosling (UUUWK kweouk UUUWK kweouk?) roasts sur the cripplecrappletendercackle and we setten. What changley! What soft in my delanted orificicles! Aye, my syphilized yarblebling does get festive with the—What soft in my delanted orificicles! Such real oheeyass I feel! I feel such real oheeyass! Et aye, my sweet, such I feel oheeyass that to me feel real! The yarble biggenwidens with the What soft in my delanted orificicles! And you say, no, only sight of thy devested carcass biggenwidens my yarble!
Alas, sloot or worse, filthy barbars, cutehooren! Ye devest me and I quillenly attendrate my dulcent so seeckle gosling. What perversion! Do not ye put your touchers where your cock is, save to the odorant o’ the gosling. Aroon to everything ye ole feel the stream of the gosflesh slither between cranklycrackly separations, it chauffates and hesks, rubs its pileless cuticles inside your corporice. Excitance. O threetimes he crowed and ye cease the lubbed toucher on your yarble.
Switch to the gosling and the spuddass ‘til eve, facile facsimile dodo himily. No more ekhling—no more touchers where the gosflesh does it! Jazzled oily, calmen and prepared to the squirt.
In Other News
She is distraught that Joey has not responded to her calls for weeks about his care package and that nice girl from Bacchanal.
You can’t be emasculated by this guy. He’s got a ponytail, 1970s aviator glasses, and pink socks under his L. L. Bean boots.
Sixth Floor: PART OF THE COLUMBIA CS CLUB
Seventh Floor: PROFOUND AND EVERLASTING LONELINESS
Eighth Floor: WRITES FOR SPEC
For your reference, a good rule of thumb for networking is that, if Mo Bamba played in the background for 75% of our conversation, I probably don’t intend to strike up a professional relationship.
“Now, the dipshit’s gone and pissed off Shub-Niggurath, the Black Goat of the Woods with the Thousand Young,” Core professor Ricardo Hernandez said.
In his concluding remarks, Bollinger made a surprising revelation: “I have been notified by my ancestors that all lands previously inhabited by the Lenape people have been granted to me, personally.”
Otis Wofford, CC ’22, expressed his discontent with the decision. “Women, men and gender non-conforming folks being a part of the same institution? The social justice warriors are out of control.”
At first we thought our challenges wouldn’t be insurmountable. We thought that with discipline, resolve, and a heavy dose of hard work, Spec would persevere.
But then came the op-eds.
“I’m told at one point, the quiz registered full attendance while only twelve students were in the room,” police chief Marcellus Johnson explained. “Something had to be done.”
“He just looks so thin and pale in his facestagrams that I knew I had to give him his own mother’s medicine: my famous Latkes!” Marsha said.