The Misfire Issue

The Plumber’s

Faucet

The Misfire Issue

VOLUME XXXI ISSUE VIII February 4th, 2015

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. 31 No. 8

CONTRIBUTERS Editor-In-Chief

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR Overlord Punxsutawney Phil has spoken! Six more weeks of winter are upon us! In the spirit of the season, The Plumber’s Faucet has decided to inaugurate the new era with a bold new layout and a less than bold new editor, yours truly. I remember the days when I was a starry-eyed first year and The Faucet first tickled my fancy (about 5 months ago).

I had to have it, and by battle royale with the late Faraz Oman, she was mine.

Malcolm McClintock

Layout Editors

David Bailey Katharine Callahan

Writers

Daniel Galef David Bailey Adam Pickersgill Liam Duff-Meadwell Morgan Mattone Matt Wolf Kieran Mak Luis Carlos Pombo

As the groundhog’s time comes to an end, it’s Cupid’s turn to shine his unflattering light on the lot of us. It’s my honor to present to you, our devoted fan, the Misfire Issue; equipped with a Plumber’s Pot throwback, news on the continuing strife between arts and engineering, and ways to woo your loved ones, this issue is ready to blow its load (yes, blatant sexual inuendos as well).

Illustrators

Vitamin J (cover)

Support

Ashkaan Mohtashami

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.

Complaints

Your Crushes and Confessions post hasn’t gotten enough admiration? Looking to continue that buzz from Carnival or Igloofest? Join us at The Faucet.

Here we only discriminate a little bit, and you can too! Or perhaps you picked up this issue by accident; well, good luck putting it down. It’s full of misleading titles for the literate and stimulating pictures for the engineers.

Signing off for the first, and hopefully not the last time,

Malcolm Mc clintock

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. 31 no. 8

Wednesday, February 4th, 2015 ISSN (print): 1707-7478 ISSN (online): 2291-3513

An EUS Publication

February 4th, 2015

The Tech Fair Report

by Zexy Swami NEW RESIDENCE HALL – Every semester, hundreds of eager engineering and science students fill the New Residence conference hall in the hopes of being told to “apply on-line”. There truly is no better opportunity to network, practice your people skills, and be politely told that there are no positions currently available for the likes of you. In that spirit, we here at the Faucet are pleased to bring you the latest headlines from the scene.

middle of February” he said, “But Carnival was like two weeks ago, so it seemed appropriate.” Mr. Morris bemoaned the lack of clarity on the part of the organizers. “I mean, if it’s not a fair, then they really shouldn’t be allowed to call it that.

That’s just false advertising.”

Senior breaks record for collecting most complimentary pens

Terrence’s record-setting haul.

A Schlumberger employee meets with a recruiter from Cisco.

Josh Morris, a U0 chemical engineering student, found himself out in the cold after being denied access for what organizers deemed “inappropriate attire.” Mr Morris, who showed up sporting jean cargo shorts and his lucky shirt, had been reportedly boasting to his peers all week about how “pumped” he was for funnel cake and how he was going to “totally kill it” at Whack-a-mole and Skeeball. When questioned, the Picton, Ontario native stated that he was “more disappointed, than embarrassed” to find out that it was not that type of fair. “I did think it was a bit weird to have a fair in a residence in the

that this has nothing to do with the recent dip in oil prices, saying, “I still totally have a job…”

Schlumberger Representatives Seen Handing out resumes

Freshman“disappointed” TechFair isn’t actually a fair

Artist’s rendering of how Josh imagined his day would go

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Falling oil prices have taken their toll as many companies layoff employees by the thousands.

However, representatives from Schlumberger, the world’s largest oilfield company which recently cut 10% of their workforce, are forging ahead with an innovative new approach to recruiting this year. Instead of accepting student resumes, employees will now be going booth to booth handing out their personal resumes and networking directly with other companies. We caught up with one representative as she was emphasizing her “strong work ethic, and her talent for “cross functional collaboration.” “We really believe that this is the future of recruiting,” she said. “Going directly to other companies allows us to streamline the process by eliminating the students entirely.”

The representative also assured us

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History was made this TechFair when U4 mechanical engineering student Terrence Wu collected a whopping 63 complimentary pens, shattering the previous record set by the legendary Jack Nielsen in 1998. “I’m really honored to be mentioned in the same sentence” said an exhausted Mr. Wu. “I mean this is what I train for all year and it finally paid off.” Perhaps more impressive was that Wu completed this feat in under 3 hours. Rather than politely pretending to be interested in the companies, he took a revolutionary approach that he called The Grab and Dash.

“Basically, I just run around and take whatever I see. “If someone is writing, I grab it. If there’s a bowl, I just dump it in my bag. It’s pretty simple.” When asked what he planned to do with the pens, Wu said that he would probably stash them in his bag until they are lost, broken, or bleed ink all over his “nice” pants.

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. 31 No. 8

Pickup Lines to Try on your Engineer Crushes

by Morgan Mattone and Friends Chemical • Are you made of hydrogen, oxygen, radon and yttrium? Because you make me HORnY!

Mining • I hit it so good I can turn coal into diamonds • Once I tap your well you’ll be flowing for hours

ECSE • Can I plug my wires into your breadboard and let my current flow?

• You turn my software into hardware • Damn girl are you a USB port cause I’m not sure which way to jam my stick into you (but I’m going to keep trying till it fits) • Damn girl I wanna cross wires with you and fiddle around in your fuse box

Materials • I must be Iron Man because I want to steel your heart

Mechanical • Do you have any lube? I need to oil my shaft • They call me the gear grinder

Civil: • When the cement truck broke down I used my penis instead • I’m ranked 8 on the Richter Scale

Bioresource: • After only 10 minutes of sex we could produce enough energy to power all household appliances

February 9, 1972

A Plumber’s Pot Relapse

Dear Dr. John

Dear Doctor,

Me and two of my friends ended up at a pub three months ago and picked up this great looking chick that invited us to her apartment promising us a super evening. By the time we got there, my two friends were jockeying for position. As soon as we were in, she ripped off all of her clothes and then started, as fast as she could, tearing our clothes off.

By this time we couldn’t believe our eyes. She was like an animal, and since I was the first one undressed she jumped me first.

Furiously, she worked her way down to bring my detumescent organ to its full magnificence, as big around as a coffee pot and twice as long. She dragged me onto the bed with her, throwing her untamed thighs up wildly around my hips as our bodies surged together. She then screamed and yelled, dug her nails into my back and bit hard into my flesh. She took it all out of me in three seconds and left me there high and dry. I layed there for fifteen minutes, bleeding a little, while she was giving an even worse treatment to my two friends. By the time she had finished with them, she wanted even more.

Knowing that I wasn’t ready for seconds yet, hissing like a tiger, she came back at me trying to revive me. She applied digital, oral friction and suction to my penis, She was like a maniac.

After my bout was over, I romped to the bathroom, washing my wounds and the coagulated blood off my body. I must have spent at least half an hour in that bathroom, and when I came back she was getting dressed, leaving my two friends on the floor, one unconscious and the other one bleeding to death. After fixing them up the best I could, I got them into the car and brought them to a doctor. He didn’t believe his eyes, but after two hours disinfecting and patching them up they were all right. Since then, they haven’t dared picking up another girl. What kind of animal was she?

-- Suck-me-dry-and-call-me-dusty Dear Suck,

The common term for such a condition is nymphomania.

The nymphomaniac is often the conglomerate of all the other perversions of sexual instinct-Lesbianism, sado-masochism, oral and anal-eroticsm, bestiality, and all other goodies- or she may be interested solely in heterosexual copulation. Usually, however, the intense drive and demand for a sexual partener force her to utilize any and every method of erotic gratification which is available.

Therefore, when dealing with a nymphomaniac, the determining factor is the intensive driving force of the overall sex urge, rather than any specific act of sex. The nymphomaniac is not merely oversexed, she is completely incapable of being satisfied by any form of combination of sexual acts with either the male, the female, or both. Yet she will ordinarily try them all in great quantity and degree.

An EUS Publication

TA for a Day by liquid giggles

This article is going to seem strangely timed, because it’s all about messing with first years in September. But if I published this in September, the first years would read it and catch on. So now’s the time to do it, in the hopes that someone will remember this article and make it happen. Liquid Giggles will be joining the real world soon, so I’m afraid that I will not be able to do this myself… So without further ado, let’s get down to business.

February 4th, 2015

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is just to be confident. Find out 2. Tell them that the professor the tutorial times on Minerva for has 3 surprise midterms classes like CHEM 110 and MATH throughout the semester.

140, and show up ten minutes You are risking you neck to tell ahead of time. Write the course them this. You might even get code on the board and wait. If the fired and replatced with a new real TA does come, book it out of TA if it gets out. there, but chances are you just 3. Slowly shift the subject matter need to wait for the students to entirely. See if you can turn trickle in. a discussion on physics into The next step is up to you. a description of the Second Teach a tutorial, but make sure Punic War, with a detailed that it is more interesting than analysis of tactics. the regular tutorial. The real TA 4. Have a beer. Teach a regular will be back next week, so you tutorial, but start drinking a only have one chance with this beer five minutes into class. particular class (luckily, there are They’ll be shocked, but think many more classes). that this is just the way we

Do you remember when you were a tiny little baby first year?

First years are adorable, because do things in Montreal. If you they don’t quite understand how What to teach them? can swing it, show them a university works yet. This makes 1. Go way over their heads. For 6-pack of Pabst, and say that them perfect prey for fake exams, MATH 140, start with some you are giving out prizes for secret locations, and other basic calculus, but rapidly participation. They’ll think shenanigans. It’s easy to spot a accelerate to PDEs. Explain you’re the chillest TA ever. crowd of first years because they that not all high school Then, when you are gone the will be waiting in line outside of curriculums are the same, next week, they will assume classes before they start, they but that they will catch up you were fired and you will be will be spending actual money soon enough. “The prof has a legend for the rest of their on new textbooks, and they will probably started teaching degrees. actually be going to classes. you about the basic math, like 5. Teach ridiculousness.

But you know what else every integrals and derivatives, but At McGill, the BEDMAS first year does? They always go to we are going to skip the review convention is actually BDSMtutorials in the first week of class, and get right into the real AE. Isaac Newton was actually even though the TA doesn’t show material.” ”You’ve probably the founder of modern up. This presents those ‘in the encountered 2 dimensional biology. For physics problems know’ with a magical opportunity. matrices, but now that you at higher learning institutions, Here we have dozens of starryare in engineering, it is time we use the 100 second minute, eyed sheep coming to a room, to think outside the box... the 100 minute hour, and the not knowing what to expect and or should I say, the square?”

10 hour day. eager to learn. It is up to us to Or, “Cells are much easier teach them. to categorize in the Laplace Domain.” (Thank you Phasers This is all I have for you – the rest Your first step is to dress for that suggestion). mature. Or not – TAs are just is up to you! students, so you could get away with wearing whatever. The key

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. 31 No. 8

POETIC STYLINGS OF THE FAUCET Forbidden Love: A Sonnet

by

I once saw you across the lab table And thought to myself “Damn that bitch is fine”; She asked me for a computer cable Then licked her lips and forced them over mine.

I’m just kidding that was all in my head Next time I saw her I stared at her tits, Mesmerized, I missed what the prof had said And ended up burning my work to bits.

Every day I think about her naked Riding on me like she’s working a pole Oh how I wish we were not related, Shit that mouth looks like it can take me whole.

I ponder in bed what life could have been If my sexy lover was not of kin.

mor

gan

ma

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A Weaker Love Haikus can’t impress Less creative than flowers Stick to the Kleenex

An Ode to Add/Drop

by Matt Wolf

The add/drop period is here, A season quite so merry, From the semester’s humble beginning, To the twentieth of January.

Reality has not kicked in, Students feel so alive; An alcoholic wasteland Where procrastination thrives.

Among Carnival and Igloofest, We celebrate as we shiver.

You can gage the festive euphoria By the pain within your liver.

You don’t think I’m using add/drop wisely?

I’ve got your add/drop right here!

Why don’t you drop all your complaining, Let me add a couple beers!

But now the fun times must all end, How awful to be back, As we put down our red cups and ping pong balls, And pick up our backpacks.

Textbooks finally get opened, And as we reach for our notes and pens, We ask ourselves collectively, “Shit... what classes am I in again?”

An EUS Publication

February 4th, 2015

A Late Night in the Lab

by Random Access Mammary Jason looked at the corner of his diminutive laptop screen. “2:18 AM,” it blared back at him, in LCD fueled luminescence; Microsoft Windows™ 8.1 reliably keeping Jason informed of the current hour. Glancing over to the other side of the McConnell design lab at the remaining holdout, Jason perked up in anticipation. Was that a rustle of goose-down lined clothing? Indeed it was! His fellow late-night neighbor was finally turning in for the evening, leaving Jason alone, at last, accompanied only by his work, his thoughts, and his screens.

When he was sure he was alone, he slowly unzipped his bag and carefully withdrew his best friends. VGA, HDMI, DVI, and DisplayPort - Jason knew them all intimately. Wishing the Dell monitors he was working with in the lab had a higher quality port, Jason nevertheless gently inserted his VGA cable into the port on his laptop as his other hand reached behind the monitor mounted on a swivel stand, searching for the complementary port. As his second hand connected and he was screwing in the holding pins, Jason shuddered in excitement: he knew this was only the beginning.

HDTV mounted on the wall. As the screen blinked on, Jason felt another surge deep in his loins. He had yet to reach optimal capacity.

Powering up his Microsoft Band™ connected to his brand new Windows Phone™ he made sure his vitals were in proper order.

Jason had never attempted something of this magnitude.

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His fingers flew, eyes flicking from screen to screen, taking in all 8 displays at once. The graphical waterfall of images coursed over him, through him.

His excitement was building more and more. Jason’s pace magnified to ridiculous degrees; the sheer number of pixels at his disposal and the prospect of reaching his goal only made him go faster. Upon completion, Jason could not help but let out an exclamation of ecstasy and rapturous pleasure. With a sigh of contentment, Jason made one final click, an emphatic “yes” to the dialog prompt: “Are you sure you would like to submit this Assignment?”

Sure enough, his heart was pounding, his breathing became progressively heavier, as he withdrew the final two pieces to augment his deepest desires. His Microsoft Surface™ slipped furtively from its case, and Jason placed it in its regal Jason then went home to upstanding configuration. Finally, furiously masturbate. his antiquated Microsoft Zune™ made it to the electronic soirée.

Jason let out a soft, nearly inaudible moan as his earbuds This entry was brought to you by fit perfectly into his ears; he was Microsoft: The official tech company of the Plumber’s Faucet (they were the ready at last. With one last breath only ones interested). to steady himself, Jason dove in.

Having already doubled his screen capacity, Jason hungered for more. He logged into the adjacent lab computer and gingerly pressed the button on the desk console, giving him access to the 52 inch Sony™

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. 31 No. 8

7 Reasons that Conclusively Prove God Exists

by Lorenzo von matterhorn

7.

Doritos Locos Tacos

I mean come on; a combination of two awesome things so perfect can only be the work of a higher power. My 48 hour Call of Duty marathons haven’t been the same since.

If the combination of Doritos® and tacos doesn’t scream divine creation then I don’t want to live in this world. It’s THE divine creation. Yeah, that’s right; I’m looking at you Ferrero Rocher.

Fuck you Zeus and your religion.

I’m eating the body of Christ; delicious tacos made of Doritos® chips.

6.

Molson 67 Calories Beer

A lot of bros out there worry about their calories. However, they still need ways to get drunk and forget about the fact that they’re dieting. Enter Molson 67 Calories beer. If you’re watching your weight but still need to be

a man when you drink, then you need a low calorie beer solution.

Forget about those girly (yet delicious) drinks or wine (what are you, French?) which may have double the calories. Next time you’re on a diet and reach for a Molson 67, you know who to thank.

5.

Smart TV’s

simple yet powerful phrase that can be applied to anything. For example, you put bread into the toaster, yet toast comes out.

Checkmate creationists. When you pull a tissue out of the box, another one magically reappears.

Even when you flush the toilet, water comes back into the bowl, which is useful because those Doritos® tacos have done a number on me by now.

3.

The Lord of the Rings

First, there was TV. Then there was HD TV. And now, there’s the Smart TV. A TV connected to the internet. Need I say more? I can now finally jerk it to tentacle porn in glorious HD on my 1000 inch TV (and no ladies I’m definitely not overcompensating for anything.

It does the job, OK?). A creation 726 glorious minutes of film this divine can only be the work of an omnipotent, omniscient in the greatest trilogy of all time.

This and the Titanic are the only overlord. All hail Samsung! movies where it’s permissible for a man to cry. It’s clear that Peter Jackson’s vision was guided 4. The Tides by a higher power. Legolas skateboarding on a shield, Frodo yelling “SAAAAAM” at least 50 times, Gandalf doing Gandalf things, what more could you ask for? The only question is, what the fuck happened to Jackson between the end of these films and The Hobbit? He probably I need to thank my main man got corrupted by those liberal Bill O’Reilly for bestowing upon bastards. If The Lord of the Rings the world this distinct proof of is hallowed, The Hobbit can only God. “The tides come in, the tides be described as satanic. go out”. You can’t explain that.

There’s honestly nothing more that needs to be said. It’s such a

An EUS Publication

February 4th, 2015 2.

myCourses

Seriously, how the fuck did our parents survive at university without online access to their course notes, assignments and tests? Oh they went to class you say. Right, as if we have time for that, what with Snapchat, Twitter, Facebook and Christian Mingle. We’re so busy being social that we don’t have time for real life ‘priorities’ or ‘responsibilities’. I don’t have time for that: I’m too busy writing for the Faucet and blessing you

all with these thought-provoking and philosophical articles that take months to write. It’s safe to say that without myCourses we would all be truly fucked. Another win for the big man upstairs.

1.

That really old book

You know the one. I can’t remember its name but it was written like 2000 years ago and explained everything. It was written by a bunch of random people and as we all know anything that has been written down is the truth. It doesn’t get more conclusive than that.

ENGINEERING PRESIDENT PERPETUATES OPPRESSION INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX BY BRUTALLY ASSAULTING DEFENCELESS ARTS STUDENT

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. 31 No. 8

Courting a Benefactor (A Work of Benefactor Fan Fiction)

I address you as Dean of the University Treasury to inform you regarding the recent regrettable but necessary budget cuts.

—a recent article on budget cuts from the McGill Daily It was halfway through a particularly harsh semester, and the university was in dire need of money. We were strapped for cash, but no amount of strapping seemed to help, not for lack of trying, and we were strapped over and over again until they could strap us no more. These strapping young collections officers informed us that if we didn’t cough up the dough in a week, they’d break all the kneecaps in the dissections theaters, forcing us to participate in what was painfully obviously a buyers’ market. We’d already pawned the McLennan Library (but kept the fifth floor

for sentimental reasons), plus two of the Macdonald Buildings, and relocated all campus activity to a reasonably-priced loft on Durocher. There wasn’t much room for the students, but that was okay because we’d pawned them too. We’d even pawned the pawns from the Student Center’s chess set: we were running out of options.

by Daniel GALEF of Rockefeller’s wet dreams, and we knew just the man. I was selected for my obsequious wheedling (I don’t boast — these are the president’s words, not mine), and also because I drew the short straw and was unable to outrun the security guard. My wife accompanied me for the sympathy value.

The troubles began during our last quarterly budget meeting: the chancellor, decked in a Hawaiian shirt, Panama hat, sunglasses and a stripe of zinc oxide down his nose, stepped out to buy a pack of smokes and inexplicably never returned.

When enquiries (and inquiries) were made, tracking him proved difficult, as he had left all of his fingerprints in his desk drawer. No one had bothered to take down his name, though there is almost definitely an ‘E’ somewhere in his last name. (If you encounter someone who meets this description, please shoot first and question your own sanity later).

The target was Mr. Herbert G. Steubenmeyer, a well-todo alumnus who, despite graduating from McGill, had amassed an immense fortune from manufacturing opensource eel ladders, free-range telescoping concertina wire dental floss, and organic, collapsible duralumin sporks.

It was a market he cornered with astounding eagerness, and he became known soon as the Bastinado Baron, the Croesus of Crullers. It make more sense if you know that his corporation also dominated the scene in inflatable instruments of corporal punishment and renewable, hybridized breakfast pastries.

A few collect calls later revealed that our financier was finished, our broker was broke, our C.P.A. M.I.A., and our bursar bust. Our lawyer had also been found dead in his foyer, but that was probably unrelated.

It was decided that we would need to curry the favours of some generous benefactor of a magnitude unheard of outside

From what I’d heard of Herbert Steubenmeyer in the faculty washroom gossip mill, he loved being rich, but carried on as if he didn’t want to be for very long. Money never had time to burn a sufficient hole in his pocket, as it was already burning too many holes in the pockets of real estate agents and yacht vendors. He’d bought so many

An EUS Publication

February 4th, 2015 wine cellars, coal cellars, root cellars, and salt cellars, that he retained his own personal cellar seller. If we wanted his fat stacks, and they were by all accounts the stacks to be desired, we would have to act fast and leave no witnesses.

trying to push us out of the third-story windows on the pretense of admiring a peacock on the lawn. Once there actually was a peacock; I pointed this out to him, and he apologized profusely. When he leaned to look, I pushed him off the After running out of petrol balcony, and we continued the twice on his freeway of a front tour at our leisure. drive, the first thing we saw was The house, an immense an enormous Rolls Royce parked manorial thing, had been on the lawn, a huge double- perfectly reconstructed phaeton outfitted with the after being dismantled and bonnet and grill of a VW bug. transported brick by brick over “Ooh, look!” cried my wife. several years from across the street (a misunderstanding of “A Silver Ghost!” ‘the grass is always greener’).

“Don’t be ridiculous,” It was furnished with Regency I replied. “There’s no such period beanbag chairs, a thing. It’s probably just a Silver reversible snooker table that Weather Balloon, or some Silver doubled as a sacrificial altar, Swamp Gas.” and an inflatable chandelier; Before we even met the the hall luxuriously decorated magnate, Mr. Steubenmeyer had with fluted columns, columned made a considerable impression flutes, mirrored shag carpeting, on us, not least the impression and a collection of ormolu clocks of the brass door knocker on my that I blush to imagine. nose after I introduced myself We waited for to the butler. I rang the doorbell Steubenmeyer’s return for again, which played ‘Dixie,’ and several days, during which we waited for a second chance. This discovered no fewer than six time the doorman begrudgingly swimming pools, the smallest led us to his employer’s study inside the second-smallest, to await Steubenmeyer’s return and the largest inside of that from a breakfast meeting one. Finally, after fending off with a Hollywood producer he starvation by cannibalism, our was bribing to assassinate his ears pricked to the sound of daughter. a monstrous sedan on the While we waited, we were graveled driveway, which graciously granted a tour of then smashed the environs by the butler: a through the pleasant experience, so long dining room as we remembered not to turn wall. Out from our backs. He was consistently the growling

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behemoth of a Cadillac stepped another growling behemoth, dressed in the suit Liberace was buried in, masticating four lit cigars in his bovine maw. His ten-gallon hat could have held at least fifteen gallons of water, easy, but was instead filled with bourbon. When he saw us, the flames of the Pit flared behind his piggish eyes.

“Why, hullo,” I said, chipperly, extending my hand, class ring and all, which he promptly bit off and spat into the grate, “we were hoping you could give us some cash. I’m afraid we killed your butler. My name’s Winston! Charmed to make your acquaintance!”

Part II to follow. Part III after that. Part IV, to be skipped, but V and VI to appear as planned. Part 7 will replace Part VII, and Part 8 is the same as Part V.

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. 31 No. 8

GROUNDHOG DAY RAGER

by LIQUID GIGGLES

Las Vegas, New Orleans, Ibiza, Amsterdam, New York, Montreal, Bangkok. Some of the wildest party cities in the world. But one day every year, each of these cities looks up to the true world party capital: Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. On February 2nd, the world’s greatest Groundhog Day celebration occurs, and the mild-mannered denizens of this little hamlet show the world how to rage.

As you may know, Groundhog Day celebrates the ability of large earth-dwelling rodents to make long-term predictions of weather trends. The groundhog, who in Punxsutawney is named Phil, leaves his hole at sun rise of February 2nd. If he sees his shadow, he returns to his hole, signifying six more weeks of winter. If he does not, this signifies an early spring. In Punxsutawney, members of the Inner Circle speak to Phil in Groundhogese to confirm the prediction.

annual Groundhog Day Rager. On the morning of February 2nd at midnight, the Faucet crew and friends descended on an unsuspecting apartment to partake in debauchery, gambling, and general silliness.

And, like Bill Murray’s cinematic Snorting caffeine pills - it was a late night masterpiece, musical numbers to herald his Groundhog Day, there were no announcement.

Performances consequences to our actions! included cover songs by popular The party raged from midnight artists like the Lumineers, with until 7:15 am, when Phil made his verses Groundhog-ized to suit the weather prediction. A live stream occasion. from Punxsutawney, PA brought all the excitement of their little hamlet straight to Montreal.

The live stream culminated with Phil’s prediction, including

Before the live-stream though, Fauceteers and friends raged hard. Activities included slap cup, flip cup, nudity, eating caffeine pills, snorting caffeine pills, Mario Kart, Super Smash, boat races, and most importantly, gambling.

The question of whether there would be 6 more weeks of winter hung in the balance, so participants out everything on the line to support their

In honour of the Punxsutawnians, the Plumber’s Faucet organized the first

An EUS Publication

November 4th, 2015

prediction. Sexual favours, beer, baked good, and streaking dares were on the line.

With the weather in Punxsutawney looking cloudy, the expectation was that Phil would not see his shadow, and there would be an early spring.

Those supporting the 6 more weeks of winter theory made bets where they would lose a little but win a lot. In the end, their guts and grit paied off, because the weather cleared up and six more weeks of winter was declared.

If you missed the rager, have no fear, because Punxsutawney and the Faucet are not going anywhere, and I expect young folk to bring it back next year.

Rage hard my friends. Rage hard.

Making bets on what Punxsutawney Phil’s prediction will be More caffeine pill snorting

7:15 am, the moment of truth Printed at Copi-EUS

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. 31 No. 8

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November 4th, 2015

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. 31 No. 8

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