I have been on the email list for the Cannibal Club at the University of Pittsburgh (formerly known as the Pitt Cannibal Club) for a couple of years now, but before this week I have never attended a meeting. I don’t know, maybe I’m just not enthralled by their powerpoint presentations on the nutritional value of the human liver, or their Hungry Hungry Humans game nights, or even their human charcuterie socials, but I never felt compelled to go to one of their events. That is, until this past Friday, of course.
For some background, I’ve always been a huge Parrothead. I know all of Jimmy Buffett’s songs: “Margaritaville”, “Cheeseburger in Paradise”, that one about the pirate… the other one about… tropical living…
Anyway, it really caught my eye when the latest email from the Cannibal Club claimed that Jimmy Buffett would be the next “special guest” (which, of course, is cannibal terminology for “main dish”). Never one to pass up an opportunity to eat my idols, I immediately resolved to attend.
The meeting was held in the Cathedral of Learning’s secret negative fifth floor, the level below the sub-sub-sub-sub-basement. The Cannibal Club – sharing the floor with only one other club, the Necrophiliac Society – meets in the floor’s largest room, a lecture hall-sized space with no windows, chairs, tables or floors. All there is beneath one’s feet in that room is dirt, crawling with bugs and worms. In that sense it’s not unlike the Cathedral’s second floor.
I was standing around in a small crowd of veteran cannibals and curious (and hungry) Parrotheads when Jimmy Buffett – the son of a son of a sailor himself – was rolled in, tied to a sterile table. Forks and knives were handed out by the Cannibal Club officers. One girl requested a spoon, I dared not ask why. We all stood in eager anticipation as the president, an odd man with a cannibalistic gaze, prepared to make the first cut into the country-calypso celebrity.
Just then, Jimmy’s eyes opened. He was not yet dead! Immediately the president asked who it was that checked to make sure he was dead. From the meek and feminine voice I heard quietly squeak an apology behind me, I knew a woman was to blame, but Jimmy said from the table that it was nobody’s fault. In any case, the problem was swiftly dealt with.
As soon as the president carefully cut a cube of meat from Jimmy’s thigh, put it tenderly upon his tongue, chewed it skeptically before finally swallowing it and declaring it good, the club erupted into a frenzy, as each member frantically ripped Jimmy’s corpse apart and devoured what they could. Being new to the whole cannibal enterprise, I lucked out by getting his left hand and forearm. I bit into it, surprised to find it about as juicy as a grapefruit, which is of course an exceptionally juicy fruit.
I was making my way up the forearm when my teeth hit metal. How had I not realized he was wearing a watch? I removed it, glancing briefly at the time. It was five o’clock somewhere. I continued in my gluttony.
Elsewhere, the Cannibal Club was making quick work of poor Jimmy. There was some sort of peanut butter conspiracy down by the toes, as one guy had brought a jar of the smooth stuff and they were dipping the little piggies in it like pita chips in hummus. Another guy, who had ripped a chunk from Jimmy’s shoulder, was unsatisfied with the taste and searched desperately for his lost shaker of salt. Others came far more prepared: one, who I am told had previously attempted to amend his carnivorous habits, brought lettuce, tomato, Heinz 57, French fried potatoes, a big kosher pickle and a cold draft beer, which I was surprised he was able to sneak into the Cathedral. One kid, dressed as a pirate for the occasion, got the worst of it, and looked at forty short strands of grey hair from Jimmy’s balding head, all he was able to grab.
I left the meeting feeling… content. I was unsure whether this was because I got exactly what was promised me – the meat of Jimmy Buffett – or whether that was the effect of consuming this particular individual. I passed up the chance to smoke some coral reefer with the other cannibals, and instead pondered this question as I made my way home. I do think I experienced some form of island escapism that night, so long as the island I escaped to was inhabited by viciously cannibalistic natives.
Let’s face it: none of us take the time to read the terms and conditions. They are far too long, and far too boring. What could even be there, right? After all, terms and conditions are written by the kindest, most selfless people on the Earth—business executives and lawyers. We read the first sentence or two, sign and accept, and things turn out fine.
Many on-campus freshmen and sophomores, such as myself, approached their Roommate Pact in a similar, responsible way—we waited for our roommate to cave and just write the whole thing for us, and maybe gave a hearty thumbs-up before we proudly signed without reading it. After all, signing pretty much makes us Pact co-writers, and co means half, so we technically did, like, half the work. For most, this standard method causes no issue.
However, one freshman, Martin Campbell (age 18), ran into trouble after blindly signing an agreement written by his Sociology Major roommate Aldous Zingmann (age 19), who decided to take things one step further. Aldous had apparently snuck a 106 page-long contract into the Roommate Pact that apparently signed Martin into indentured servitude for the rest of his life. With his signature on the page, Martin is now legally bound to do the following and more: Shine Aldous’s shoes, wash Aldous’s feet, do Aldous’s homework, sing graceful lullabies, and tell really funny knock-knock jokes upon request. Should Martin refuse, he and his family might face over “one gazillion dollars” in fines over breach of contract. (Or something like that, we didn’t really read the terms and conditions either.)
After meeting with his lawyer (age 45), Martin has commented that he “tends to be unlucky” and “wouldn’t be surprised if this happens again”. He also confirmed that since he didn’t sign under duress, he has no legal grounds to dispute the contract. Martin explained that “the roommate agreement was just so long and so boring, I’m not even sure if my lawyer read it either.” In other news, Aldous’s crocs are shinier than ever.
Yes, its true. I, the Lord, did something for the greater good. The day was Thursday the 25th of November in the year 2021. Very late that evening I was wandering past a location that was known for having lots of foot traffic. This night I noticed that there was not a lot of people wandering by, but there were a lot of people sitting on the sidewalk with tents and mobile fireplaces to keep themselves warm. I found it horrible that people would not want to be near these obviously homeless people. I understand that many people see them as dirty but having lived with literal pigs for a few years in the early 300 BCE’s I don’t see the un housed as dirty.
I approached someone near one of the edges of the group and asked if I could join them. This kind man said yes and we began talking about our lives. He said “Well, my kids are back at home but I need to get them something from the store, and as it is almost Black Friday, I felt like this would be a great time to get some good deals on presents.” I found it incredible that even in as trying of times as he and his family must be going through for him to sleep on the streets in these frigid temperatures, he was thinking of getting his children something nice for the holidays as even kids living on the streets should believe in the magic of the holidays. I was also amazed that he and his family were able to call some hard section of concrete or asphalt home. I had never heard of this so-called Black Friday, but coming from a white guy to a white guy, regardless of their living arrangements seemed a bit racist but I have been told that punching down is not a good practice. As for the gifts he planned to get good deals on, the homeless communities must have some complex and difficult for outsiders to understand bartering system.
Once the clock struck midnight instead of some fairytale style transformation for a group of homeless people and their supporters into a city of affordable housing and strong social programs, a light turned on and everyone got up. We all walked into this large warehouse like building filled to the brim with food, toys, clothes and anything else you could want in where you will be living. To my knowledge the have repurposed a warehouse that was used to sell walls at one point, they turned it into a place for the less fortunate to live. As sad as it is to see businesses go under, I am grateful to the previous owners of WalMart for going out of business because of their misfortune, hundreds have found shelter. I said goodbye to the kind man who now has a place to bring his family in from the cold. I left the new homeless shelter feeling good about myself, yes, but feeling good for the state of humanity more.
By the Writers of The Pitiful News(Formerly the Pittiful BOOOOOOs)
Woodrow Butim AfraidOfWater
Woodrow was loved by all he knew, except for the MerFolk he committed atrocities against. Mr. AfraidOfWater is survived by a wife, PaddleBoat “Paddy” AfraidOfWater, and 2 children, MerMadeline “Maddie” AfraidOfWater and Drowned “Owen” AfraidOfWater. Woodrow died of dysentery and smallpox.
Mr. Fried, known to his friends as Bean, wasn’t really a good man, but we have to feature him here anyway. He sometimes smelled bad, and he had a pretty wicked temper, but he was the inventor of an unpopular type of potato chip that you probably haven’t heard of, so he had more money than you can imagine. He died, as you might guess, of several stab wounds, because he was actually a terrible man if we really think about it. He leaves behind a delighted wife, two indifferent children, and a potato chip factory that continues to be unpopular.
Edgar was known to his friends and family only as Edgar. His enemies knew him by a different name, but they refuse to speak of it now that he is no longer here. Edgar died under mysterious circumstances, and even now, we’re unsure of exactly what happened. It was something to do with a stone quarry, a bowl of chili, and a really nice pair of shoes. We wish his family the best and hope they stop grieving soon because it could happen to anybody, really.
Marley N. Mcdonough
MNM died from an overdose. A peanut overdose, she was deathly allergic. To add insult to injury there is speculation that she was murdered due to her long standing feud with the M&M corporation. She sued them over identity theft and her case had been kicked up to the Supreme Court of the United States. When she won, forcing M&M to change their famed product’s name to Stanley Tucci’s Chocolate Spheres, the Stanley Tucci’s Chocolate Spheres Corporation was not happy. Marley was found to have died due to a peanut Stanley Tucci’s Chocolate Sphere.
Nick Quick was not a dick.
He was rather misunderstood
Yes, sure he liked to drive stick
He would help his neighbor if he could
Nick Quick will be missed
Not for what he did but for who he was
He will not be forgotten by those he kissed
He loved people not for personal gain, he loved them just because
I had the pleasure of knowing Beatrice personally. She was my eighth favorite little old lady who dressed like Paddington Bear. I think I was the only person she knew. She died doing what she loved – subway surfing the tops of trees like a drugged-up squirrel. To those concerned, we would like to clarify that she did not fall; rather, she was gently impaled on a small branch, and then she sat on a large branch to rest, and then she never got up again. Please join me in mourning her death, and please help me sort through her extensive collection of nuts. I think this woman was actually a squirrel and also a hoarder. There are so many nuts.
Charlie has yet to die but he will die this year. On December 31st at around 11:58pm, he will fall to his death from the New Year’s Eve ball, which he climbed in his signature daredevil style. When Mr. Smith leaves this world he will take with him over 300 people who were in Times Square to celebrate the coming new year but were in the way of his cratering fall.
Grab your headphones, shut those blinds, pour yourself a glass of wine, and throw out everything that falls within six degrees of separation from Jake Gyllenhaal, because everyone’s favorite underground indie singer-songwriter superstar is coming back to town on November 12th. Taylor Alison Swift, noted rags-to-riches girlboss and esteemed offspring of a Merrill Lynch stockbroker and a marketing executive, will surely knock the music world on its ass as she plans to release her re-recording of the best album of 2012, Visions by Grimes. Thankfully, Kanye did not release an album that year, or that joke would have been even worse. Red (Taylor’s Version) was originally scheduled to release on November 19th but was moved up a week presumably to precede the release of TheGummy Bear Album (Gummibär’s Version), in stores on November 13th.
Red 2: The Reddening promises a modern remaster of Swift’s career-altering breakthrough into pop music that you wish you could have appreciated at the time but your sister would not stop playing it around the house at a very fragile time in your psychological development. The re-recording will also include numerous unreleased songs, such as “Nothing New” featuring Phoebe Bridgers (yes!), two songs with Ed Sheeran (no!), and the original ten-minute long version of “All Too Well” because I just can’t catch a goddamn break, can I Taylor? Despite acclaim and excitement for the massive thirty-song tracklist, many fans are rightfully irate at the omission of the famous stylized period at the end of “I Knew You Were Trouble.” which honestly completely ruins the song for me.
Prior to the release of the album this Friday, many Pittsburgh city officials have posted notices alerting citizens of elevated levels of crimes of passion and gender-based tension. Police fear increased rates of arson, car keying, window-smashing, cryptocurrency theft, vote-by-mail fraud, general homicide, and hateful subtweets. The state of grace has already been disrupted by western Pennsylvania Swifties venturing out from their homes for the first time in months and painting the town red (literally and figuratively). These treacherous crimes were met with harsh warnings from high-ranking community members and police officers that, despite having already known that the Taylor stans were trouble, knew all too well that they would be unable to stop them. One local Swiftie was charged with 21 counts of vandalism after one particularly rowdy rally on Monday night. I wish they had just done it one more time because now I have to find some way to subtly get the number 22 into this article. Oh, there we go.
Anyway, when asked if they regretted their crimes, the perpetrator was quoted as saying “I almost do,” which is maybe the coldest thing ever said in a court of law. During the trial, the accused vandalist then went on to pledge to the jury that they and the rest of the pro-Taylor vandalist gang would never ever be getting back together, after which the judge dropped all charges. The defendant promised to stay (stay (stay)) out of trouble, and that this would be the last time they would deface the holy ground of our beautiful city of Pittsburgh. One Pittsburgh police officer, Gregorio Hamfistico, famous for never using commas or saying the word ‘and,’ described the crime as “sad beautiful tragic.” He then went on to proclaim himself as “the lucky one” after many other Pittsburgh citizens had property damaged or stolen during the rally. “Everything has changed and features Ed Sheeran!” said Hamfistico. Not exactly sure what he meant by that, but it seemed thought-provoking. No matter your stance on Taylor, it is important to protect yourself, your family, and your mental health during these tumultuous times. If you find yourself alone in the starlight on Friday night, be sure to stay close to sidewalks, keep your eyes peeled for people wearing red lipstick, and avoid any seemingly demonic summonings of men to date Taylor Swift lest we let this whole thing begin again. Good luck, everyone.
By the Writers of the Pitiful News (Formerly Unvaccinated) edits made in bold: original article
What is COVID? No, seriously, what is it. Somebody please tell us. Ain’t that the crow family? (closed captioning provided by PBS kids, the BBC, and viewers like you.)
NOVEMBER 1, 2021
Pitt announced in a Monday Funday campus wide email that all students and employees must be vaccinated against COVID-69, or receive an approved exemption, beginning Jan. 6th 2021. The vaccine joins the measles, mumps, rubella, chicken pox, ligma, sugma, dysentery, mad cow disease, lycanthropy, death, and meningitis vaccines already “required” by the University.
The move, which takes effect on the first day of classes after Thanksgiving break, followed months of pressure, the build up is very anticipated and once it arrives we can relieve some of our built up juices by replacing it with that good good science semen, from elected campus leaders, who nearly all expressed support last spring by margins wider than a freshman paper that is just under the page requirement. It also comes after some have questioned how, if at all, funding from Pennsylvania’s Republican-led legislature has played into the vaccine mandate trigonometry by state-related universities. The State Senate leader said Penn’s Taint would likely face “hordes of aerial humpback whales” if a mandate took effect, but the state-related university ended up rolling out a fruit roll-up that will also start in December.
Pitt faculty, staff, haters, lovers,mothers, and fuckers who have not uploaded spooof of vaccination are currently required to take weekly COVID-19 vape hits. Negative test results [sic (via Jon Moss)] or failure to get tested results in a resulting loss of access to University buildings and a spank from Patrick Gallagher himself, which critics contend would actually result in an increase to unvaccination rates. Currently, 106% of faculty members, 143% of staff, 6% of undergraduate students, 100% of lizardmen,and 98% of sewer rats have submitted proof of vaccination.
The University said in the email that its current approach is “really stupid.” Chancellor Patrick Gallagator said at September’s Student Council bake sale that the University’s weekly COVID-19 testing program for the unvaccinated was estimated to cost between $20 to $50 million, the majority of which is paid for by the tuition of Pitt’s vaccinated student body.
“By enforcing this requirement now, we will be able to pretend we have a moral backbone while simultaneously bending to the will of mothball-ridden, lobbyist-backed Republicans.We will also maintain a high defenestration rate on our campuses,” the email said, “while continuing to support our students and research, as well as protect our workforce, with minimal disruption to our programs, activities or money-laundering operations.”
The requirement will affect 2,250 students, 420 faculty and 690staff members who have not disclosed their vaccination status, the email said. We would like to take this time to mention that The University of Pittsburgh has completed their 15 year research into the topic of talking emails, and by George they have done it. Currently enrolled students who fail to comply with the Dec. 6 deadline will not be able to enroll for spring classes (or slinky classes) or live in residence halls as of Jan. 6th, 2022, also known as Put Trump Back in Office 2: Electric Spookaloo. Students who have already enrolled in classes but fail to provide proof of vaccination or obtain a proper exemption will be disemboweled. We will however be keeping all of the money they paid because we value money more than we value teaching in a safe environment like, oh, I don’t know, online. Current employees will be subject to disciplinary action, which will include loss of access to electronic resources and other disciplinary actions up to and including termination of employment, the email said. The talking email strikes again. Also additional disciplinary actions could include: a single spanking, staff being made to listen to the forbidden sound of a banana hitting a kayak, being forced to watch cute puppies and kittens and ducklings playing and not being allowed to touch them, and/or having their arms and legs chained to the roof of Cathy. To find a full list look here.
Pitt community members can request an exemption beginning next Monday from the vaccine requirement for medical reasons, or reasons based on being a massive piece of shit. The email said the Office of Danger, Exclusion, and Iffy Business will review these requests on a case-by-case case-is. Those granted an exemption will be subject to additional midget-station measures, such as routine COVID-19 testing.
The email added that this is an interim policy, and a formal charter and committee are being formed to create a permanent policy. We here at the Pitiful News feel that Pitt is going a bit overboard with this whole talking email thing. Faculty Assembly President “Glad” Robin Kear (of “Batman” fame) said many years ago, on a night much like tonight, that she was part of a group that analyzed the possible consequences related to faculty vaccination requirements, and also noted that she is “glad” there may be a possible vaccination policy.
Kear, who was “glad,” said “Monday” that she is “glad to see Pitt moving ahead with a vaccine requirement to keep the Pitt community safe and healthy.” Kear, who was “glad,” continued to note her support for a mandated vaccine. Kear was quoted as being “glad” at the future prospects for the greater “student” body regarding a future “requirement too” [sick] be vaccinated – something we can all be “glad” about!
Harshitha Ramanan, also glad, the Student Government Board president, did not immediately respond to a request for comment, but did release a finsta story complaining about how uncomfortable the chairs are in many Cathedral of Learning classrooms. A random old man was noted saying, “are you committed to ending ‘finsta?’”
Pitt officials did not immediately respond to a question about whether community members will still need to swipe their Panther Cards in their ass cracksand wait for it to beep when entering University buildings — used to prove compliance with the current COVID-19 vaccine and testing program — when the new policy takes effect in December. Currently, you are not required to swipe your Panther Card in your ass crack, but you can if you want to (heh, sick).