WUnderground WashU's Premier (only) Satirical Newspaper Est. 2004
Dear Chancellor Wrighton,
On behalf of everyone here at WUnderground, we would like to apologize. We’ve been harsh to you over the years, unfairly so, and it’s time to right our wrongs. Though WUnderground is Wash U’s premier [only] satirical newspaper, there is a line when it comes to poking fun at members of our community, and we’ve crossed it.
For example, we’d like to apologize for our recent claim that you trained your golden retriever to attack students who receive financial aid. This is a wildly unrealistic portrayal, as we know that Grace is a sweetheart and it is in fact your black lab, Dodger, who won’t eat his kibble unless it is mixed with students’ viscera and a shredded copy of the FAFSA.
Similarly, we want to express regret for our headline from Issue 12.2, “Sex Swing Recall has Wrighton Frazzled.” We know that you are a savvy consumer of products that facilitate the acrobatic sexual congress on which you and Mrs. Wrighton pride yourselves. You would never purchase a sex swing (or any other instrument of aerial coitus) of inferior quality, and in the case that such a purchase did occur, you would calmly rectify the situation.
We apologize for calling you a “notorious cyberbully,” a “figure with a puppet head,” and a “face that only a mother could love.” Actually, we didn’t call you that last one, but we definitely talked about it in a meeting and for that we are sorry.
We also did a disservice to you and the Wash U community at large when we wrote in a past issue that you “treat the issue of sexual assault and harassment with the utmost seriousness,” because all involved know that such a statement is libelous and untrue.
Finally, we are writing to apologize for our misleading visual representations of you. Let the record show that you, Chancellor Mark S. “The Thunder from Down Under” Wrighton, are not Donald Trump, a buxom football referee, a beautiful butterfly, the owner of an ironic sweater with bananas on it, a can of cranberry sauce, or (especially not) the back left pocket on a pair of mom jeans.
Hopefully this letter will clear the air between us and buy us some pre-emptive amnesty for some things we’re going to do next semester. We sincerely apologize for our actions and we beg your forgiveness.
Forever yours,
The Editors
