WUnderground WashU's Premier (only) Satirical Newspaper Est. 2004
The newly inaugurated Chancellor Andrew D. Martin believes WashU can play a part in combating global warming. “These rising temperatures threaten our way of life,” he said at a congratulatory dinner in which he announced his new Solar Energy Plan, “and we need to do something.”
Martin continued to prophesy about climate change, grinning maniacally as a pyramid of Sunny D bottles was rolled in beside him. He quickly rubbed the tips of his fingers together as the beverages were distributed to his associates. They remained confused, even after Andrew D. Martin said he’d be putting the “D” (Sunny D) back into WashU’s campus.
“As a moderately rational human being,” said A. Douche, a journalist from Student Life, “I expected Chancellor’s Martin’s Solar Energy Plan to involve replacing the power plants with solar panels. I see now that I was wrong [and that I write pointless articles with no dick jokes].”
Article 1 of the Solar Energy Plan states that “All WashU facilities will abandon outdated and medieval methods of energy [electricity, natural gas, big dick energy, etc.] and instead use the divine source of Sunny D.” Article 5 states that all beverages (including tap water) will no longer be sold or offered at WashU, and that “Sunny D will invigorate the fecund minds of WashU’s students, allowing them to be effectively mobilized.”
The Plan lacks discrete instructions but notes that Sunny D “is undoubtedly the best brand of orange juice,” and “will allow man to prevail.” Article 1,179 states that: “Sunny D will flow through WashU like the Nile River. Sidewalks will be transformed into irrigation tracts, and students will sail to class over the raging seas of Sunny D. ” For reasons of journalistic clarity, it is important to note that Chancellor Martin drafted this plan single-handedly. The document is mostly unintelligible.
According to his descriptive butler, Chancellor Martin was found later in a near unconscious state muttering “here comes the sun [doo-doo-doo-doo].” The walls of his office–where he collapsed on his desk– were lined with Sunny D ads. A picture of the Chancellor’s wife and children were tampered with, their faces replaced by the Sunny D logo. Empty juice bottles cluttered his cabinets, as well as where he lay.
The butler remarked–with sentimentality I did not ask from him–how a bottle in the Chancellor’s outstretched hand spilled its last droplets onto the carpet. “God,” he supposedly said to the butler, “God, I can’t do it. I just can’t fucking do it anymore.”
Medical professionals have since diagnosed the episode as a case of Sunny D overdose.
