The Green Issue: Nature, Money, and St. Patrick's Day

- Frogs - The Green Part of a Rainbow - Green Skittles - Apples - Mike Wazowski - Starbucks Logo - Yoda - Godzilla - Limes - Avocados - Frankenstein - Peas -

The Plumber’s

Faucet

The Green Issue

VOLUME XXXIII ISSUE VI March 20th, 2017

Grover - Grass - Sickness - Greed - Grapes - Boogers - Nail Polish - Snakes - John Deere - The Jolly Green Giant - Kermit the Frog - The Old Libyan Flag - Fertility

Money - Ecological Conservation - Saint Patrick’s Day - Iguannas - 1/3 of a Traffic Light - Vomit - Cabbage - Leaf - Envy -

- Health - Emeralds - Gardening - Recycling Bins - Moss - Green Playdough - Spinach - Asparagus - The Green Goblin - Kiwi

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. XXXIII No. VI

CONTRIBUTERS

LETTER FROM AN EDITOR

Jolly Green Editing Giants

What is Green? Green is money. Green is jealousy. Green is sickness. Green is nature. Green is innocence and naïveté, the Emerald Isle of Erin, the political party that’s never going to win office. Green is whatever you can truly believe it to be, and so, in its own way, is the Plumber’s Faucet.

Daniel Galef Morgan Mattone

Layout Leprechaun Otman Benchekroun

Green-eyed Writing Monsters Chetan Pal Singh Ashta Otman Benchekroun Alex Dombowsky Daniel Galef Bruno Greselin Morgan Mattone Morgan Sweeney

For the very green purpose of environmental conservationism and saving the trees, this issue of the Plumber’s Faucet weighs in at twelve pages instead of our usual sixteen, and also has been printed on recycled hate mail culled from the batches we normally receive at our editorial offices.

Cover Clover

The estimated carbon offset derived from this economy in publication is sufficient almost to account for all the extra trees that will have to die for you to send us the fan letters congratulating us for doing it.

Ké Smith

Support Malcolm McClintock

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 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. XXXIII no. VI The Green Issue, MARCH 20 , 2016 ISSN (print): 1707-7478 ISSN (online): 2291-3513 xx

This issue includes some amazing writing from the Plumber’s Faucet’s evergreen contributors, as well as from some inexperienced young greenhorns who have submitted for the first time. In its pages you will find travel columns, short stories, satirical news, puzzles, poems, and pictures galore: From two new contributors, side-splitting theater reviews of the McGill sketch comedy scene. From Ké Smith, a beautiful cover on eye-catching green paper displaying only a small selection of the world of green things, including (see if you can spot him!) the Faucet’s proud mascot, Old Foss the Iguana. From our staff writer Wren Wittier, a cerebral thinkpiece weighing the pros and cons of having an environment at all.

So please enjoy the penultimate Plumber’s Faucet of the year, the spectacular Green Issue: Pick up a copy to read while you’re sick to distract you from being green about the gills. Take it to read on the trip if you’re going to Greenland or Green Bay, Wisconsin.

If you don’t like the issue, write our offices scathing green-ink letters telling us what we’re doing wrong.

Don’t fret the greenbacks—the Faucet is free of charge!

Daniel Galef An EUS Publication

March 20th, 2017

Nature is Bad and We Should Punch It: A Think Piece

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by wren Wittier

Listen. We’ve all heard the talk from Big Green about how “climate change” is “bad” for “everyone,” but I’m here to say that it’s doing humanity a favor: Destroying the environment means there’s less nature, and we can all agree that nature is pointless and awful.

Winter is cold and wet and unpleasant. Who needs it? Heavy clothing manufacturers, that’s who. If we’re able to wear t-shirts year-round they wouldn’t make any money. So they fabricated that lousy season to sell us more and more layers. I say enough! Let it snow no more!

It’s always “endangered species this,” “close to extinction that,” but what people don’t realize is that there’s just too goddamn many animals as is. Why do we need 18 thousand types of bugs? Fuck you, we can probably get by with, like, a couple hundred max. I don’t go around memorizing the scientific name of every critter I find scurrying behind my couch before I crush it; if widespread insecticide use does that for me, who am I to complain?

They tell me that “pollution ruins air quality” but when’s the last time you went to the country and enjoyed yourself? I hiked up a mountain and there was too much oxygen in the air. Hippie air if you ask me. I don’t need to pay extra for stupid, organic, free-range, no artificial flavors, vegan air. I inhale three different types of smog with every breath, and it’s saving me a ton on cigarettes!

“The glaciers are meeellltttiiinnngggg,” they whine, but frozen water is unnatural. I drink my whiskey straight. Ice is for babies. That’s why I pour antifreeze into my nearby pond, to make sure it doesn’t wimp out and freeze like all the other conformist bodies of water. Besides, the glaciers are home to polar bears and penguins. Who needs them? They’re just white-washed grizzlies and over-dressed chickens. Why should they get their own continent?

Crop diversity is for suckers. I’ve eaten nothing but canned beans and jerky for the last three years, and I’m fine! Fruits are for suckers who think vitamins are gonna keep them alive a little longer, and scurvy builds character, dammit. Your precious fruits won’t help you in a fistfight!

In conclusion: Fuck nature. It needs to go away. Who’s with me!

Printed at Copi-EUS

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. XXXIII No. VI

BYOJ Sketch

by Morgan Sweeney

Pictured: the Bring Your Own Juice sketch comedy troupe, in desperate need of juice to go with all their ice cream.

“Bring Your Own Juice” was a fun, quirky combination of various short comedy skits exhibited in the Players’ Theatre from March 16-18th. The performers were clearly a close-knit, whimsical team who had practiced their sets together extensively. Not a beat was dropped nor a line missed that I could tell!

The first scene set was a skit about creating skits.

The unspoken irony of this sketch (outside of the obvious making a show about making a show) was that the only idea rejected by the characters was about Oedipus, which ended up being the only skit mentioned in the introduction that was actually performed. Two skits about the tech industry contained plainly satirical messages. One was a game show where a contestant made a lot of money for making up an idea on the spot and doing no work to implement it; in another, unoriginal ideas on acid were praised extensively.

In addition, the typically Western family dinner was explored in depth. There was an infomercial about what to do if your child is from the past, and the modern Oedipus spoof was held around the dinner table. There were also significant appearances by the supernatural, between the graduation party where everyone has a superpower, the aliens who go around trying to inhabit human bodies, the “free spirits” who just want to party in the house for sale, and the hilarious spoof on the hit teen fiction series Twilight.

My personal favorite sketch was one where the characters imitated WiiMiis (those large bobble-headed characters in that cool Nintendo game from 2008).

This was planned exquisitely – the exact Wii music was played and the features were added to the characters spectacularly. Tatyana Olal in particular slayed in all of her roles, truly committing and embodying each character at hand. She was absolutely hilarious.

According to the booklet they handed out, she was also the producer of this show, and this was her final show. She will definitely be missed!

Since my personal experience in comedy is in improvisation, I thought the comedic value of the show could have been improved if a few members of the group had committed a little more seriously to their roles. Despite this, it was a fun experience and I definitely would go again. It’s really important to support live performances and student-run activities – university is the best time to explore artistic pursuits and artists need our support to continue to be able to do what they love!

Finally, a big shoutout to the music that played between scenes – there was a good mix of old and new songs; often songs enhanced a previous scene or previewed the scene to follow. The audience (author included) would sometimes sing along; it made the otherwise uneventful scene changes truly enjoyable.

An EUS Publication

Comedy Reviews

March 20th, 2017

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by Adam Sandler, I hardly Know ‘Er I had the experience of seeing a once-in-a-lifetime performance, the 2017 BYOJ show preview, and I have to say, it was riotous.

The night began as all nights do – at night. Juice in hand, we stood outside Players’ Theatre, waiting to be brought in. We practiced telling each other jokes, a necessary rite before all forms of live comedy, so that we may recognize what jokes are, and laugh accordingly, and not make fools of ourselves. In this manner, we were made ready, as I’m sure the practiced and tight-knit squad of the BYOJ cast was doing the same right behind the door.

I must admit, when we first entered the theatre, we were disappointed. Sadly, no cupholders were provided for the juice which we brought. Some of us brought juice in boxes, reminiscent of our childhood, others brought bottles more exotic than their liquid counterparts, and even a sippy cup or two was in the mix. Within the varied containers, juices abounded – apple, cranberry, mango, other juices whose names captivated the imagination or lurked in the unknown. All were delicious, sweet, and sugary. As we waited for the show to start, we traded juices, and in this manner enemies became friends, friends became lovers, and individuals became an audience.

The ground was sticky in the juice of shows past, testament to – Oh yes, the show! It was absolutely ghastly (that is, chock full of ghosts). The humour at times was dated (so much so it was practically Oedipal). The players were witty, clever, some newer members timid, letting older members’ charisma driving the show, but every player juiced to the max. Which is all to say, we loved every second.

Then again, perhaps we drank too much juice.

Printed at Copi-EUS

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. XXXIII No. VI

The Red - Green Party Manifesto Is ordinary politics running you ragged? Do your “tolerant” peers not see the world in the same black and white terms that you do? We represent the interests of the colour-blind everywhere—but not the regular blind—we do have STANDARDS, for goodness’ sake. This is a party that stands for diversity, but recognizes that maybe we don’t actually need every single colour of the rainbow. Join us today to help paint a better tomorrow—DAMMIT John not that colour, you KNOW I can’t…never mind.

Alternative Uses for Daily Things: Shamrock Edition

by Wren Wittier

• Add them to your smoothie for an extra serving of green vegetables • Grind them into juice for a natural dye • Ferment them into a festive beer • Infuse vodka for a delightfully green liquor • Glue them to your clothing instead of paying for costly shamrock- patterned fabric • Nail them to your house to save on green paint • Use them as biodegradable, environment-friendly confetti • Fill pillow cases or stuffed animals for less artificial softness • Invent a process to turn them into biofuel • Use them as post-apocalyptic currency • Tiny paper • Allow them to rot in piles, and use the compost heat to warm your home • Launch them into the stratosphere for a snow day without the snow • Record the gentle shuffling of clovers and dubstep remix it • Compress them into cannonballs or bullets and go to war • Burn a few as incense • Burn a bunch as kindling • Burn them by the pound as a bonfire • Smother a fire with them • Add them to hand lotion for Health Benefits probably An EUS Publication

March 20th, 2017

INCREDIBLE: WHEN A FIRST YEAR DROPPED HER SAMOSA ON THE LEACOCK FLOOR THIS GUY GOT ON ALL FOURS AND ATE IT

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by Bert Zkizky Bert Zkizky, the Faucet’s intrepid formed nature writer, takes a crack at writing the crime pages.

Melissa Feebles, a first year student, was busy navigating the traffic of Leacock after her Sociology class, when she realized that she hadn’t had breakfast. “I slept in through my alarm,” Feebles told us. “During my entire sociology lecture, my stomach was growling. I kept convincing myself that only I could hear the rumbling inside my head, but the frequent stares from other students and the fact that my professor stopped speaking after a particularly long and loud grumble lead me to believe that everyone else noticed.” Melissa was originally going to make her way to Premierre Moisson, but she noticed that the McGill Knitting Club was having a samosa sale that day. “I figured—hey, why not?—so I bought my first ever samosa at McGill.”

Then, as happens in the wilds, terror struck.

Right before Feebles could enjoy the savory taste of a fresh samosa, the beautiful biscuit slipped out of her hands, bouncing on the ground like a Four Loko bottle on the St. Laurent pavement. Feebles later told us “I was horrified. I knew that losing my samosa virginity was a time honored rite of passage at this university, so I fully grasped the magnitude of this tragedy. That’s when things got weird.”

A third year biology student, later identified by taxonomists as Brian Elroy, was hanging out near the samosa stand. As he saw the samosa crash to the ground, his eyes narrowed and he purred a little bit. This was the moment of vulnerability that he was waiting for: A weak samosa had fallen behind the herd. In his infrared vision, a vision that only a calculated yet savage beast could have, Elroy saw the orange glow of the treat before it touched the floor, signaling that the samosa was still warm. He then went into action.

“This guy just came out of nowhere, galloping on four legs, and then ate the samosa before I could even bend down to get it,” Melissa later commented. Indeed, Elroy had sprinted on all fours and snatched the samosa in his mouth, despite the fact that the samosa had fallen in some spilled coffee. Elroy ran across campus to his hiding spot in Schulich library, where he enjoyed the samosa in his nest/study carrel.

We caught up with Jack Franz, a member of the knitting club who happened to be working at the samosa stand that fateful day. “These roving predators the samosa moochers are hardly new. Hell, they were nearly hunted to extinction in the mid-nineties since their greasy armpit fur can be turned into a surprisingly warm winter scarf. Those grease pelts were worth hundreds of dollars on the McGill Black Market (the “Free and for Sale” bulletin board, which is now a Facebook page). Ever since environmentalists fought for their protection, these lone killers have been popping up around campus in increasing frequency.”

As tensions escalate on campus between environmentalists and samosa vendors, Melissa Feebles just wants an easy solution. “You know, I’m sad, but I understand Elroy’s motivation. Samosas are tasty, and free samosas are even better. I also get why vendors are upset as well. But in the end, I think both sides can compromise in one goal: To decrease the stomach growling sounds on campus. Everyone can hear them. We sound like a bunch of wild animals.”

Printed at Copi-EUS

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. XXXIII No. VI

Beardall’s Store

by Otman Benchekroun

Only two people were in Beardall’s convenience store that day. There was Jackson, the comically chubby store employee, and there was Ol’ Robert, the not-so-old and goofy street thug. Due to the store’s small stature and fading popularity, this combination of people was almost an every-day occurrence.

Jackson was a simple man. He liked the sun a normal amount, he liked his food a normal amount and he especially liked alliteration a normal amount. Right now, Jackson was in the back of the store, stocking the one-litre cartons of milk. It wasn’t their usual brand. The boss, Itor Percivald, wanted to change things up. They had received the new one-litre cartons that very morning, in a rather large crate labeled “one litre”. To the lulled administration and clientele, this was more than exciting. Itor, the boss, was supposed to drop in to check on the brand-new cartons.

Ol’ Robert had never gone to school, and, as a result, couldn’t read. He didn’t really care, though, because he spent most of his time in this grocery store. Ol’ Robert, despite his renegade dreams, always found himself fascinated by the daily workings of stores like Beardall’s. He would take strolls down the aisles, chewing down on his chocolate bar and looking at all the available products. He would get so enthralled by them he’d often forget he was holding his chocolate bar and simply drop it. Jackson, the simple man, of course would notice immediately. Thus, Ol’ Robert had received the title of “The Litterer” among Beardall’s staff.

Itor still hadn’t arrived, and Jackson was getting worried (a normal amount). This was the big day, after all, for the new cartons of milk. It was already almost lunchtime. Finally, Jackson received a text. It was from Itor, and it read: “Jackson, I am sick. I will be late.”

Jackson sighed, and resumed his stocking of the cartons. Suddenly, hiding from behind a shelf in aisle two, a huge pack of baby kittens dashed towards Jackson. The kittens, cunning as they were, went right for the milk.

“NO!” Jackson screamed.

But it was too late. The litter of kittens had managed to work together and topple the milk crate. They ripped the cartons to shreds with their claws to get a drink of the sweet, sweet milk inside.

After a few seconds, the cats had finished all of the milk in the crate, and, as quickly as they had appeared, they vanished into the cover of the aisles.

Ol’ Robert looked incredulously at Jackson.

“What just happened!?”

Jackson walked with despair towards the cash register to grab his sandwich.

“I’m taking a break. I need lunch.”

Ol’ Robert asked again. “But Jackson! What the heck just happened?”

Jackson finally replied. “A bunch of cats demolished our milk crate and ran off. And the boss will be late now, too.”

Ol’ Robert didn’t understand. “I don’t understand,” said Ol’ Robert.

Jackson ignored this and headed towards a bench near the entrance of the store.

“I said I’m having lunch now, I’m on break!” said Jackson.

Ol’ Robert stood in his path, demanding a clearer answer. “You need to explain to me, what just happened.”

Said Jackson, “I just told you, a bunch of cats drank our milk.”

But Ol’ Robert still wasn’t satisfied with this answer. “I still don’t understand… cats? But how— ” Jackson shook his head in frustration. He grabbed Ol’Robert by his collar and yelled: “I’ll iterate, illiterate litterer: A litter ate a litre crate, ill Itor’s late; I’ll eat irate!”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------You may be thinking that this story was not at all worth the punchline. I say to you, sir or madam, you are so right, and I am so sorry. But hey! This is your own fault too, you should have seen it coming with the mention of alliteration in the second paragraph!

The clues were all there. Carry on!

An EUS Publication

March 20th, 2017

Happy Wanderer No. 7: The Faucet’s Intrepid Travel Correspondent Goes to the Faerie Courts

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by Wren Wittier

Hello fellow wanderers!

This month I’ll be writing my adventures through the faerie courts! I’ll be honest, my editor did not so much assign me this project as tell me it’s “a stupid waste of money, stick to your regular assignment,” which I took to mean go to the first mushroom ring I could find and start yelling instead of taking an Uber.

Gotta be thrifty!

I was snatched up very soon by a large combination dragonfly-dragon-thistle creature who explained that I’d trespassed into the Queen’s territory. What fun! Meeting royalty on day one of a trip, quite the honor.

Unfortunately, it appears that I’d unknowingly stepped on some toes by entering, so I was put to community service, I think. I had to evict a few trolls, retrieve some gems from a demon, and make the sun rise in the west. Overall, a solid day’s work. The latter was tricky, but I remembered my trick from the last time I’d been sucked into a paradimensional magic realm, and just engaged the court in a nihilistic debate on linguistics and etymology until they acquiesced. My worth thus determined, they offered me a spot on their council. I was ecstatic to accept, but explained that I had some other responsibilities in my home realm.

Rather rudely, they explained that their offer was non-voluntary.

After a few decades of loyal service, I managed to lead a coup against the monarchy, and put in place a democratically elected republic. I’m so happy that worked out—to be honest, dear readers, I was still eaten up with guilt at the troll evictions that started this whole mess. Equality for all became the new norm, and while it took a lot of hard work and some rather intense politicking, I could leave the new court knowing that their citizens were in good hands.

I spent one term as a senator to make sure that all the committees and political parties would cooperate, and then bid them farewell. Stepping back through the mushroom ring, I found out that I’d only been gone five minutes! How delightful, I haven’t missed a thing. My editor was a little annoyed when I had to apply for another company credit card (the ones I had on me going in had been eaten by 4-dimensional octopus monsters my third day) but was soothed when I showed him all the gold I’d brought back as souvenirs. I think I’ll apply for a couple vacation days soon before they turn back into lead, heh heh.

Until next time readers!

-The Happy Wanderer

Printed at Copi-EUS

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. XXXIII No. VI

SSMU Exec Ousted for Scandals

by Juvenal Jones

This past month has proved a watershed for SSMU executive scandals, but it all began with the explosive revelations regarding David Aird, erstwhile VP External whose long and illustrious reign seems to be came to an undignified end when several anonymous complaints of past sexual assault were filed against him via an online SSMU comment form on the Community Disclosure Network. Our Faucet political correspondent, Juvenal Jones, managed to contact Aird for an exclusive interview.

“If only I’d thought to make some offhand comments advocating the physical assault of Zionists first, then they would be protesting in my defense on the Y!” lamented Aird, adding that political motivations had had no influence on his actions. “Sorry, just my little joke. I can never say no to a good joke! And even if I did, what difference would that make? Ha ha!”

When confronted regarding the appropriateness of his comments and asked if he really thought accusations of such severity are a joking matter, Aird seemed surprised at the question.

“I don’t believe that any topic is off-limits for a little light satire. It’s times like these that I find solace in laughter and inspirational quotations,” Aird told Faucet interviewers last month. “Recently I’ve been taking comfort in this fantastic quotation: ‘Through humour you can soften some of the worst blows that life delivers, and once you find laughter, no matter how painful your situation might be, you can survive it.’

It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It’s from one of my all-time favourite comedians, the great Bill Cosby.”

The future is uncertain for David Aird, as it is for the Students’ Society of McGill University as a whole.

Campus confidence in the student government has been steadily ebbing since the election scandals of the previous year, and the executive board has shown a consistent lack of commitment to disciplining members who are caught up in those and current scandals. Radically, the council has in fact definitively and unambiguously demanded David Aird’s resignation, which he has yet to deliver. When approached for comment earlier today, Aird offered his thoughts on the situation: “Well, I asked the board if I could stay on as executive, and they said ‘No!’ . . . So I’m pretty sure that means I can.”

Submit to the Faucet! Email us at faucet@mcgilleus.ca. Write or illustrate or just tell us how your day was in a particularly funny way! faucet@mcgilleus.ca An EUS Publication

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The Plumber’s Faucet - Vol. XXXIII No. VI

Activities Page

by Morgan Mattone

Two men were sitting next to each other at a bar. After a while, one guy looks at the other and says, “I can’t help but think, from listening to you, that you’re from Ireland.”

The other guy responds proudly, “Yes, that I am!”

The first guy says, “So am I! And where abouts from Ireland might you be?”

The other guy answers, “I’m from Dublin, I am.”

The first guy responds, “Sure and begora, and so am I! And what street did you live on in Dublin?”

The other guy says, “A lovely little area it was, I lived on McCleary Street in the old central part of town.”

The first guy says, “Faith & it’s a small world, so did I! And to what school would you have been going?”

The other guy answers, “Well now, I went to St. Mary’s of course.”

The first guy gets really excited, and says, “And so did I. Tell me, what year did you graduate?”

The other guy answers, “Well, now, I graduated in 1964.”

The first guy exclaims, “The Good Lord must be smiling down upon us! I can hardly believe our good luck at winding up in the same bar tonight. Can you believe it, I graduated from St. Mary’s in 1964 my own self.”

About this time, another guy walks into the bar, sits down, and orders a beer. The bartender walks over shaking his head & mutters, “It’s going to be a long night tonight.”

The guy asks, “Why do you say that?”

Use the letters left over from solving the word search to find out what the bartender says!

“__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __.”

An EUS Publication