
White Co-Worker: So, Uh, How About That Cubs Game?

After grabbing an unmarked yogurt from the company refrigerator, he knew he had to speak up against the injustice.
After grabbing an unmarked yogurt from the company refrigerator, he knew he had to speak up against the injustice.
Several sources close to the Trump family have voiced concern over how much time he spends watching the soulless pawns dance across the screen, but Marcellus isn’t worried: “If anything, this is what his father would have wanted.”
An overly nonchalant caption, exclusively in lowercase letters and overwhelmingly blasé, follows each post.
At press time, the White House was frantically sandbagging the doors and windows as neat regiments of transgender Navy Seals politely waited outside to have a word with the commander in chief.
In a maneuver described by neutral observers as “masterful” and “ultra-smooth,” SESP freshman Jacob Banbury expertly slid the words “my girlfriend” into a quick anecdote he told his friends over lunch in Norris earlier today. “It was sublime,” said one of those friends, Landon Trent, WCAS ’20. “He wasn’t, like, making a big deal out of it. He just nonchalantly dropped in the fact that he’s getting some while telling an unrelated story about what he gets on his Subway
“Any historian knows that the ground beneath campus is hallowed by pagan witchcraft. The ancient ones knew to build out onto the lake rather than down into the abyss.”
According to onlookers, the UChicago adjunct balled up his fist—full of scientific curiosity—and punched the “already-sobbing, tomato-faced little shit” square in the face.
The course list includes “Melanin: It Comes and Goes,” “Social Struggles and Never Fitting In,” and “How to Deal with White People Guessing Your Ancestry.”
We spend all this time wondering if Betsy DeVos knows where Oregon is, but good ol’ Mark barely even recognized it as a real state. He saw a wonderland full of steamboats, fishermen, and abolitionists.
Currently, he is yelling frantically into his Bluetooth in fast-paced Spanish, interspersed with the occasional “SHIT SHIT SHIT” as he pounds the dash. Should I be worried?