Dear readers, it is sad to say that this is the last time you will see my beautiful face on page 2 of Golden Words, which you obviously read, religiously, every week. Yes, there is still Golden Words next week, because we couldn’t possibly let such a grand tradition end in our hands, but we must pass it on to the next round of editors. It is positively heartbreaking to let it go; this year’s Golden Words was hands-down the best year of all time, it would be hard to even try to compete with the glory that we have succeeded.
Dearest apologies readers, I’m really sorry for putting you through this piece of shit year at Golden Words. While some people – namely Hattie – will try and look on the bright side, if you can even call it that; the general opinion around this office is that this was a year that would have been better spent masturbating in our own feces than turning out 22 issues of this dreck. I really hope the next team can pull their shit together and make this actually worth reading.
First of all, we had the best management team of all time. My co-editor, Joe, is the sexiest man alive – except for Tony Stark, the Old Spice guy, and my boyfriend(s). His sexiness fixed the internet after Kim Kardashian broke it. Even smoking crack on Christmas did not make Joe any less appealing! The business and operations managers have been amazing too, as proven by the fact that you probably have no idea who they are. They kept things running smoothly without letting us go hungry.
While, yes, Hattie is an incredibly sexy person and a bold trailblazer for females in humour journalism, I really resent that she glazed over the fact that the two other members of our executive team, Lev and Robin, were grossly incompetent and, for the record, just gross. There’s a reason they don’t put those fuckers’ pictures on page 2 every single week. I hope the world continues to forget them.
The staff we hired have been amazing too. Ever since the day I sat on their interview panel as the token female interviewer, I was convinced that none of them were bat-shit-crazy racist sexist homophobic psychokillers. And that just sets them apart from the majority of the people in today’s society.
Hattie, your crazy-racist-sexist-homophobic-psychokiller-radar is obviously defective, because this place is like the roll call at a prison; but instead of dishing out punishment, we dish out pizza. What did they ever do to receive this? Sure they create our content, but who couldn’t do that? We even make it clear in our masthead that we welcome anyone with a general sense of literacy (and even that’s iffy at best) – it doesn’t take a genius to pick a somewhat relevant topic, write a listicle about it it, and add 5-10 “fucks”. Of course this criticism doesn’t apply to everyone…just Sam, Chris, Noah, Veronica, Sydney, Noam, Emily, Bailey, Nick, Nick, Vic, Cody, Matt, Matt, Isaac, Jesse, Alex, Christina, Fiona, Jacob, Leo, Will, Cola, and Brennah. Everyone else is in the clear I guess.
More importantly, the readers this year have been awesome. This is mostly due to the majority of our readers being gullible frosh who were not in any of my classes. The last thing I want from my readers is comments and feedback. There’s no chance that what readers have to say can be of any value to us as the paper has already been made into perfection. Therefore, having literally zero contact with any of my readers has made being editor a much more rewarding experience.
Something that I really thought this volume was lacking was a good scandal. Or at the very least, some flame wars. Since last month, the internet has not gotten better – in fact, its probably worse because its fury is probably tied to the exponential growth of the world’s population. For every village in Africa that gets a internet connection, the internet grows by 5 new assholes. Despite this, it is kind of sad that none of that collective angst made its way to our inbox. I mean, we didn’t even get Nigerian scams – what, we’re too good for you Prince Djembe? Fuck you and your credit card numbers.
The success of this prestigious organization couldn’t have been without the full support from EngSoc, the Dean of Engineering, Principal Woolf, the Mayor of Kingston, and Prime Minister Stephen Harper. The complete disregard for us from the above offices have really allowed our talents to shine. Long live the freedom of speech!
If you think that anyone in a position of authority did anything whatsoever to help this newspaper, you are dead wrong, reader. I might as well break down each of the “supporters” and their “contributions”. EngSoc pays our salary, but that might as well be blood money wringed from the tuition of hardworking student(s’ parents). The Dean of Engineering pretty much ignored us this year. Principal Woolf has yet transform into a werewoolf, which would make for the best fucking cover ever, so he can suck our dicks. And Prime Minister Stephen Harper has crippled the Canadian economy to the point where young, dedicated newspaper writers/raging alcoholics can’t find a decent job after leaving school. Fuck you Stephen Harper.
In closing, while we may disagree as to whether or not the past year has been awesome, or a completely meaningless revolution around the sun that, in the grand history of time is but an insignificant speck waiting to be brushed away, at least we had fun. Next week, we will pass it off to the new executive team. We wish them the best of luck and legitimately hope they do not burn down the office and/or get the paper shut down.