What building hasn’t been affect­ed by mold on this campus? First, it was the faculty housing building, then Calvin Hanson Chapel. Just this year renovations were completed to Fraser after mold was discovered there too.

After extensive research of leaked correspondence between administra­tion and outside anonymous sources, The Turnip has discovered a sinister plot behind these “coincidental” fun­gal invasions.

In the late 80s, Chemistry profes­sory Dr. Lars Cunningham began work on an experimental new biologi­cal medicine. The multusobedientiam spore was intended to be adminis­tered in airborn form, which would result in a more morally obedient stu­dent body. “The community covenant will become more closely followed than the American 1st Amendment,” Cunningham wrote in an undated journal entry.

This well-intentioned experiment took a nasty turn when the pathogen was tested on a select number of un-tenured professors at the time. Test subjects became obedient as the re­search predicted; however, this had unforeseen side-effects, manifest­ing themselves in a state commonly known as “being a zombie.”

Instead of reporting these acci­dents to the nearest Health Author­ity, the “infected” professors were sent to an isolation unit under what is now known as Northwest Building. Students today hear whispers of the infamous “Catacombs.” This cavern­ous stone prison was recently bolted down by the powers at be. Why was it bolted? The only reasonable explana­tion is that it was done as a measure to further isolate this dangerous sub-culture of zombified intellectuals.

Due to the airborne nature of this virus, it occasionally sprouts up on walls around campus.

If these series of events is not enough evidence for this shocking ex­ample of biology gone wild, there is a last piece to the puzzle: the expansion of the Neufeld Science Center.

After a removal of certain ele­ments to the Community Covenant, administration has realized that stu­dents have reached the point of no return in a transition from general tomfoolery to unmatched debauchery.

This immoral fall led the univer­sity to re-engage the previously aban­doned research of Dr. Cunningham. This was decided in a long meeting between faculty and administration last month which briefly touched on unionization issues before moving on to more important things such as bio­logical sedatives for post-secondary students with the intention of making them easier to maintain.

The research facility added to the Neufeld Science Center was primar­ily motivated as a central location to continue this research. There is no concrete evidence as to how or when they plan on initiating Phase Two, but a recently discarded document sheds light on several victims acquired for further experimentation. (Has anyone seen Goheen lately?)

Last summer, the Nursing wing downstairs was guaranteed due to a containment breach which was passed off as a “burst water pipe.” Watch out for residual traces of the virus. Should you start feeling light-headed or particularly prudish, get over to RPC asap to receive your last rights.

Continue to follow this newspaper for any updates on this extremely im­portant issue.



FIRE ALARMINGA sound erupts in the crisp Lang­ley night. More irritating than a Cana­dian goose with a kazoo: the dormi­tory fire alarm.

For years students have been fed lies of ‘burned popcorn’ and ‘faulty sprinklers’, but that day is now over. Let truth reign! The Turnip has ob­tained hard evidence as to the real reason for these frequent disruptions.

Unbeknownst to the average pass­ersby, TWU receives most of its en­ergy from a nuclear power plant clev­erly disguised as a white maintenance tent, behind Douglas.

Though the structure itself is kept well hidden and secure, commuters passing by on Glover at night may no­tice a remarkable orange glow ema­nating from the campus.

The reactor requires constant monitoring—every 108 minutes to be precise—but with recent job layoffs the university is struggling to main­tain atomic integrity. The notorious ‘fire alarm’ that frequently evacuates students from their dorms is a warn­ing signal, notifying ‘security’ of a containment breach.

Radiation proof fall-out shelters have been dispersed across campus, but the only confirmed location is the President’s office. During a recent in­terview, our dedicated sleuths noticed a conspicuous metal hatch in his of­fice with three months’ worth of food provisions stacked under a loose bedsheet.

Next time you hear the bell ring, don't wait outside your dorm like an idiot, flee to higher ground or second floor Reimer.







Nihilism and the unliving

Nihilism and the unliving