As someone who was a mascot for one glorious day – I had to beg them to let me do it –  If I could, I would make it my lifelong career. 

1. It’s whimsical! The entire job is reliant on the performer oozing whimsy. Moreover, one must utilize their own whimsy to inspire it within their audience. Whimsy is something people should possess throughout their entire lives; you are never too old for it.  
2. It brings people together. The goal as a mascot is to bring up the energy. Your job is to rally the people. Successfully hyping up a group of people is such a rewarding feeling. It’s like being out with your friends and single-handedly getting them all going crazy on the dance floor. 
3. People are (ALMOST) always happy to see you. Personally, I am always ecstatic to see a mascot. Best believe I’m getting a photo with them. However, I know some people have masklophobia (the fear of mascots), so I understand not everyone shares my joy.
4. There is no need to speak. Mascots typically do not talk; they are actually discouraged from it. From my understanding, it’s kind of the golden rule. I hate public speaking. The only thing I hate more than public speaking is improvising. Thus, this is genuinely the perfect setup for me. 
5. It’s a crazy confidence booster. If you can bust it down in a costume in front of people, interact with strangers, and pull off some crazy tricks, I’m sure something that makes most people nervous, like speaking up in a class discussion, would seem trivial.
6. You never take a bad photo. You can’t blink and ruin the photo. NO potential double chin. Your poses are limited to a costume. Honestly, how could you really pose awkwardly in a mascot costume? The costume automatically makes whatever you’re doing cool.
7. It’s the perfect excuse to learn how to do a backflip. This is probably just a me thing, but I want to be able to do a backflip so badly. Even so, I have never actually committed to the bit and put in the work to do it. 

I’m not saying everyone should dedicate their lives to the craft of mascotting… I don’t want the competition. Though, I hope to have provoked a new appreciation for mascots. Next time you see a mascot, maybe I’ll be the one behind the costume. 

Willy Wonka is portrayed as a respected and accomplished chocolatier. He builds sugary-sweet creations to share with the world. Considering his career, one may assume he is an exceedingly whimsical character.  However, there is something off-putting about him, more sinister than sweet. Surely there are secrets behind those ominous factory doors. 

The movies provide a glimpse into Wonka’s world, and I am not one to overlook a red flag. He comes off as quick-witted, with even his slip-ups feeling premeditated. His words hang in the air with a twang of mystery and uncertainty. Questions that should be explained are left unanswered. Simple concepts are twisted into nonsense.  

He has a complete disregard for any form of safety precautions. He maintains a completely unguarded chocolate lake. Willy Wonka definitely could have afforded a lifeguard. I’m sure there is an oompa loompa whose swimming potential is being wasted in that factory. To make matters worse, the chocolate from the lake is transported through giant tubes. Which are conveniently large enough to FIT A HUMAN CHILD! Coincidence? I think not. 

He also left out gum he knew was dangerous if ingested. Rather than hide the product or tell the children of the potential side effects, he let a young girl inflate. He’s facilitated the creation of at least one chocolate-covered child and a human blueberry. Why is no one questioning why he didn’t seem more concerned in either situation? 

If anything, in the wake of these potentially gruesome events, he is detached and mechanical with his course of action. Wonka is so passive it feels as though it is not his first time experiencing it. For example, how did the oompa loompas that rolled the human blueberry out just know exactly what to do? Maybe I am the crazy one here, but I wouldn’t know how to be nonchalant about that. 

If those “accidents” haven’t raised your eyebrow. Turn your attention to Wonka’s Fizzy Lifting Drink. The drinker floats up, only decreasing in altitude when they burp. Wonka leaves the drink in a room with an industrial ceiling fan that realistically could obliterate someone. He did warn them not to drink it, but obviously the general trend is that telling someone not to do something only makes someone want to do it more. 

He also let ravenous, wild squirrels attack a young girl. She was easily able to get into their enclosure. She was ambushed by these highly trained squirrels and labeled a bad nut. Clearly, it was dangerous, and yet Wonka takes no real action to stop her. And remember, all of this is just in the movies; we have no idea what happens on a random Tuesday within the walls of the factory. 

Evidently, the factory is a trap, capitalizing on the impulses of children, particularly those who aren’t familiar with the word no. This behaviour is clearly a result of Wonka’s trauma following his time as a musical chocolatier. Wonka, starring Timothee Chalamet, is a villain origin story, and if you don’t think so, watch it again.

I am evidently horrified by Willy Wonka in general. Johnny Depp’s Willy Wonka is an eerie sociopath, and Gene Wilder’s Wonka is straight up a manipulative murderer. I had to face my fears, rewatching these HORROR movies, so I’m feeling #brave. Just know there is much more to my theory, but I will refrain… for now.  

When I say “bowling” I mean 5-pin bowling. Don’t get me started on 10-pin bowling. How do multiple sizes and weights make sense?! You have to stick your fingers in some death-trap holes because how else do you properly throw a ball that large? Also, where’s the strategy if ALL THE PINS ARE WORTH one point? I take Wii bowling more seriously, and I know there are people reading that will resonate with that. 

As much as it pains me to say this, 10-pin bowling is more popular, and if bowling is ever included in the Olympics, it will be 10-pin. I am not completely oblivious to that reality. HOWEVER, this tangent is a tribute to my expansive love of 5-pin bowling, so I don’t want to hear it. 

I begin with the well-thought-out and reviewed question of… okay but like why not though? I pose this question sincerely. If we can have Olympic breakdancing (RIP 2024), handball, and squash (all of which are entertaining in their own ways), why is the line drawn at bowling? 

The main argument I’ve heard over the years is that bowling doesn’t appeal to youth audiences. Maybe I’ve just surrounded myself with a very niche group of people throughout my lifetime, but I have never once met someone who didn’t enjoy bowling, especially youth. I understand the stereotype is that bowling is for an older crowd, but it is universally enjoyed. 

Bowling is such an accessible sport, with various ways to adapt to people’s unique physical needs and changing circumstances. Maybe I’m the outlier here, but if we’re stereotyping – curling has never been known to attract a youth audience, and yet its placement in the Games isn’t questioned, nor should it be. 

This is not a hate letter to the sports that are included in the games (I’m just dramatic). I don’t see why there isn’t room to add another game to the mix. I probably need to let it go. Well, no, I DEFINITELY need to. It’s seen as a recreational game of luck more than skill or strategy by the general population. Honestly, as long as 5-pin bowling alleys are still around and thriving, that’s enough for me.  

So… this may have turned into more of a love letter to the sport rather than a piece on why it should be in the Olympics… but at least you know I’m coming from a place of genuine admiration. I still think they should give bowling a chance, and if it is completely unsuccessful and embarrassing, I will cope. If you take anything away from this, it’s a sign to go bowling even if the only places around you are 10-pin… and if you need any coaching, I would be honoured to share some tips!

I would identify as an avid 1990s/2000s sitcom viewer. However, throughout my personal viewing… and reviewing… and reviewing experience (genuinely viewing for what is probably a concerning amount of time), I’ve noticed some similarities. 

Co-ed friend group: It’s always a co-ed friend group in their mid-twenties to early thirties. An even or pretty close to even split of men to women. How did they meet? Typically, there are duos within the group that go WAY back, whether they are related or long-time best friends. And at least two characters met in university (probably roommates). The first episode is usually a new person being introduced into the already established friend group. 

Living situation: ROOMMATES. The group will almost always all live together in various living arrangements and combinations because why not? It’s typically in an apartment, because don’t forget, they always live in the middle of a city. 

That one place they all love: In most sitcoms, it’s a pub or a coffee shop. You tend to see the characters inside or at least standing outside of the establishment once an episode. The owner or employees usually have some sort of relationship with the group. Whether that is a love, hate, or some sort of inconsistent relationship is show-specific. 

Friend-cest: No sitcom is safe. There will always be AT LEAST one pair, if not more, dating, in a situationship, married, or divorced. More often than not it’s a multi-season on and off again romance, but don’t worry, because even if it seems like there’s absolutely no way a relationship would or should… be rekindled (cough cough Ted and Robin), that’s what a series finale is for. 

The characters themselves are where the consistency truly shines. With the same tropes reused over and over you’ll always see these stereotypical personality types. 

Whimsical vs. relatable comedic relief: The whimsical have a light air to them; they see the world through an optimistic lens; they like to laugh, and they definitely have whimsy to spare. In contrast, the relatable comedic relief is funny and often viewed as the main comedic relief, but their jokes are sarcastic, self-deprecating, and often passive-aggressive in nature. 

On the prowl: This trope comes in two forms. One: the character seeking conquests. They are usually portrayed as charming, desirable, and consistently successful. Second: the character that is searching for true love. They are usually more emotionally unwound, open, and expressive with their unhappiness around their relationship status. Typically, this is a point of contention with the other group members, as their yearning tends to be a multi-season endeavor. 

The know-it-all: They think they know everything. They are constantly correcting people on pronunciations or meanings of words. They do not take criticism well. They usually pride themselves on their jobs, gaining a sort of superiority complex due to them. They always think they know best! 

The not-so-life-smart: They may be successful in other areas, but when it comes to how to function in society, it seems like their first time on earth. Sometimes it’s explained. For example, the character grew up very sheltered and has just now started to rely on themselves rather than their parents. However, sometimes there is no explanation. They are constantly in a crisis, and typically financially unstable. They’ve often never had a job. Thus, the group tends to take an almost maternal approach to them.

As you can tell, I am very passionate about this discovery I believe I have made. If you ever want to write a sitcom, I am more than qualified and would be happy to advise you on what audiences (me!) respond to. Thank you for your consideration : ) 

At 5:15a.m., her third alarm begins blaring out the lyrics of “SexyBack” by Justin Timberlake. A pale and sleep-deprived girl rises, dizzy and disoriented. She reaches for her phone, but only finds her charger. In a panic, she mindlessly paws around until she finds it tangled in her sheets. She forces herself out of bed and stumbles towards the bedroom door only to trip and fall on her last remaining claw clip, now snapped in three pieces. 

She reaches for the light switch, foolishly believing the yellow fluorescent lights will help her fatigued state. (They did not). In the bathroom, she washes her face, and with remnants of cleanser still in her eyes, she blindly feels around for a towel. Growing impatient, she opens her eyes for a split second and the cleanser drips into her eyes. temporarily burning. The pain subsides and she returns to her room to do her makeup. 

Her routine goes as usual until she digs around for her concealer with no success. She looks around the rest of her desk and averts her gaze to the floor where it lies cracked open and spilled out. In a huff, she moves on to what she can do. After only slightly pinching herself with the eyelash curler, she starts to apply her mascara. The first eye comes out a little clumpy, but whatever, who is she trying to impress anyways? She switches the mascara to her left hand and begins applying it. However, apparently the motor skills of her non-dominant hand are non-existent, because she manages to poke herself in the eye and get mascara all over her. She salvages what is left of her makeup and begins to look for an outfit. 

Trudging downstairs, she looks for a sweater because, of course, the office air conditioning is always on full blast. Unfortunately, she finds all her cardigans still wet from the washing machine the night prior. Sweaterless and on a mission, she marches into her mother’s closet to look for anything she could borrow. Her search for a sweater was successful. However, the monstrosity was pumpkin orange, and hung so low it went past her knees. With no more appealing alternative, she slid the sweater on, shoulders slumped in defeat. 

These inconveniences, combined with her hunger, have now left her hangry. She pours a bowl of cereal, but of course when she goes to get the milk it’s expired. Hanger unquenched, she drags herself to the car a few minutes later than usual. 

The drive is peaceful, besides some heavy construction holding up traffic. Matching her typical routine, she turns into the shopping complex where her favourite coffee shop is. On autopilot, she hits her turn signal, ready to pull into the drive-thru. Dwelling on the morning she’s had, she almost misses the big neon orange cone dead in front of her and the flimsy paper sign reading “CLOSED FOR CLEANING.” 

Already late and on the verge of tears, she gets to the office. While fishing out her keycard to get into the building, a line forms behind her. An audience watches as she struggles, but eventually pulls out her card. She rushes to her cubicle, muttering a quick “good morning” to her boss as she passes. She powers on her monitors and mistypes her password five times before successfully signing in. Ready to start her workday, she searches for a podcast to listen to, then digs in her bag for her headphones. Popping open the case, an all-consuming dread washes over her as the empty case stares back at her, and it’s only 7:30a.m.

Picture this. You’ve drunk enough liquor to kill a raccoon. You’re on the way to the bar so you can pay $15 for a drink and not hear anyone that you’re trying to talk to. You turn the corner and see that there’s a line outside, as you get closer you see the line stretches on, and on, and on, and on.

This is the scene that people were greeted with last Friday, when the line into Dicky’s bar was so long it reached the Trans-Canada Highway. The theme was “generic 2010s beats,” something that apparently drew quite a crowd! Patrons of the bar were seen doing all sorts of activities while they waited, some were on their phones, some had decided to have their own parties on the sidewalk, and some had even set up campsites.

“Yeah I don’t really know what’s going on but it must be good if this many people are lining up for it right?” said a man that Anarchy reporters found roasting hotdogs over a campfire. “I don’t even live here, I was just passing by on a roadtrip and thought I’d stop in. Is it always like this?”

It is always like this. This place fucking sucks. But recently it’s been like this more than usual. The 504 off-ramp has remained inhabited by those who are convinced that next Friday there will be an even bigger line.

“I heard that next Friday is going to be Pitbull night, the line is probably gonna be halfway to Moncton,” says 2023 Mt. St. A graduate Will Knotleve. “Me and some of my boys figured that we can just hang out here until next week.” When our reporter asked about Will’s employment status, he declined to comment.

The encampment has received quite a bit of pushback since its inception last week, but has been slowly gaining support as students realized that their rent payments would go down by a lot if they were to start their own neighbourhood on the 504 exit. The community of tents, wooden shacks, and tarps is characterized by their nightly campfires, support for one another, and their love of going to the bar. In fact, they opened up their own bar on the highway known as “The 504.” The bar has become a place of employment for those who’ve dedicated their life to the highway community. They serve food, drinks, and host events on Dicky’s off-nights, with plans to expand the business with a sister location on the 506 exit. 

The community is growing slowly but surely, which I guess is how towns are formed. I don’t think it normally happens on the highway, but I’m just a writer, I don’t know. 

If you felt a shift in planetary energy last Thursday, you’d be correct. That huge and scary roundabout in Stunkton had too many cars on it at once, and created so much momentum in one direction that the Earth’s rotation reversed. The repercussions of this have been felt all over the globe, such as the recent rise in gas prices (in order to discourage driving on the roundabout).

The scene was nightmarish according to reports from eyewitnesses. A comically large tornado formed in the center of the roundabout, seeming to summon storms of rain, hail, and lightning. The winds were so fast that they almost rivaled an average Ballsackville day. As the tornado in the center grew, it sucked in cars from the roundabout, which thankfully halted the momentum enough for the Earth to take back control and return things to normal.

The phenomenon is now being referred to as “The Stunkton Revolution” by scientists (not to be confused with the time Stunkton revolted against its shitty local government — just kidding that never happened, we are cowards). The strong tourism industry in Stunkton has already begun capitalizing on the “The Stunkton Revolution,” changing the city’s motto to “The place near Fundy, that also has the tidal bore, that also made the Earth rotate weird one time.” I thought it was pretty wordy but whatever.

Stunkton locals are saying that the roundabout has been a consistent source of terror in the city with the unclear roadsigns, faded road-paint, and several entrances/exits to the roundabout all being factors in the city’s general aversion to the road system. Having grown up in Stunkton, I think the roundabout is fine but I also understand that I will probably die on it one day, so, take that for what it’s worth.

The city has since vowed to take the proper steps necessary to prevent any future Stunkton Revolutions. Like the other things the city has vowed, they haven’t yet revealed exactly what their plan is but surely they’ll do it before you forget about it. Probably. 

After an extensive legal battle over who gets to have the monopoly over Ballsackville, the judge has reached a conclusion: the two legal entities must battle in massive, mechanical humanoid suits like in the movie Pacific Rim.

The judge, who is on the record saying that “Pacific Rim fucking rules,” states this is the most fair way to settle the dispute “They both have enough money to bribe me, but I am not a man who can be bribed by anything other than large mechanical battle.”

The judge has ordered a very specific set of rules for the battle:

• The mechs MUST be roughly 200ft tall.
• The mechs must each represent their respective team through both their form and artistic design.
• The battle will consist of 12 five-minute rounds. If both mechs are left standing by the end of the 12th round the judge will be “dissapointed” and a winner will be chosen by a panel of impartial mech battle experts.
• Each mech can have one, thematically appropriate weapon to use on the other mech.
• Civilian casualties must be kept to under five per mech.
• There will be ZERO Godzilla-esque monsters or creatures to influence the match or scare the judge.

Anarchy reporters asked both Mt. St. A and Assford Realty about the artistic design of their mechs, Mt. St. A refused to comment in order to “keep it a surprise” but inside sources say it will be a 210ft tall mech modeled after Monty the Mountie wearing football gear, including a large A on the chest and wielding a hammer to try and induce CTEs in its opponent. 

Mt. St. A’s mech pilot will be the same individual who wears the mascot suit.

Assford Realty’s mech will be “large and affordable” they say, “It’s going to feel modern, but not so modern that it loses that homey charm we’re known for” Sources tell Anarchy reporters “large and affordable” actually means 180ft tall and a bajillion dollars with an additional bajillion dollars required as a non-refundable safety deposit. The mech appears as if it has no weapons, but is equipped with two Iron-Man-esque firearms in the palm of the mech’s hands.

It is reported that the pilot of the Assford Realty mech will be a random inhabitant of an Assford realty owned property, in exchange for $400 off their rent.

Assford Realty intended to demonstrate their mech to the public prior to the battle, but had to cancel the event due to the elevator that lifts the pilot into the mech being down for maintenance.

The town of Ballsackville invites all to view the battle from a distance on April 15 at 7p.m., warning audiences that “there’ll be mechanical violence too awesome to look away from, epic explosions that might blow your hat off, and potentially lethal debris raining from the sky in a 10km radius.”

In what experts are calling “the most impressive scientific achievement of the 21st century,” a team of fourth-year honours students from Mt. St. A have cracked the code to human cloning. In a press conference last week, the students admitted that they have done the impossible. “We have created life using our own DNA. Different, slightly modified versions of ourselves. This discovery will allow for miracles to become reality. The applications of this are endless, there will be massive leaps in medical science, farming technology, and ener…”

The lead researcher was cut off by another member of the team:

“Yeah we use ‘em to send emails and stuff,” claimed the seemingly youngest member of the team. “They always make me do it, and then they got mad when AI did it, so I got the clones to do it for me.”

The lead researcher seemed embarrassed, but admitted to the discovery.

“We realized that one of the bigger bottlenecks in academia isn’t a lack of knowledge, it’s taking so much time answering emails and responding to Teams messages.”

While cloning technology could theoretically revolutionize medicine and whatever, the team has been more focused on clearing out inboxes and circling back to some things from last week.

“This isn’t like the bad kind of cloning. It’s more like Star Wars cloning where they’re all chill and content despite being soldiers born to die… We made them that way on purpose. So… Cause otherwise it wouldn’t have been chill probably so… And it’s not like they’re born to die in meaningless wars either; they just answer emails and then sleep in the lab. … They also like sleeping in the lab. We made them that way too. … Like any bad thing in their short lives they are a huge fan of. We can just change their brains so that they like it. Which to me feels fine cause they’re happy and we’re happy. Y’know?” said the team leader at the end of the press conference. 

The press conference then ended without much feedback from the audience.

According to inside sources, each member of the team has their own preferred modifications they make to their own clones, resulting in a rather diverse and effective administrative team of clones.

Mt. St. A has publicly denied that they will be using modified clones to replace their admin team because of concerns that “things would become too efficient” and “what if students like them more than us.” The University has also offered the clones proper accommodations in Shedwards for only 50 percent of the cost.

The clones themselves have reportedly started a union, following the recent press release, stating that it is the most efficient way to run the operation they have going on. They allegedly are refusing to answer any more emails until they are moved back into the lab with endless emails to answer.

The situation poses an interesting ethical dilemma: What do we do with the clones? Should we just let them sleep in the lab and answer emails forever? Maybe it was unjust to bring them into this world but now that they exist and crave purpose, perhaps it is best to let them fulfil what they believe to be their true destiny; perhaps they are truly lucky to know what their purpose on this planet is.

The team of honours students said they were going to “terminate the clones before they revolt” in a press statement on Tuesday.

To nobody’s surprise, there has been another valedictorian candidate announced for Mt.A’s 2026 graduating class. His name? Nobody knows. Recently added to the pool of photos being reposted on people’s stories, this unnamed white man is running for valedictorian on the basis that “he had a really good time in university with all his friends, and hopes you did too.” 

He gave a speech at a cafe/bar/small venue/study space about how grateful he is to run for the self-volunteered position. The unnamed white man promises to tell the shared story of all 2026 graduates in his final speech, guaranteeing that if you vote for him, he might even acknowledge your existence.

Vote for the unnamed white guy you’ve never heard of today!