Responsible advice guru, Lucas Durand, lets the cat out of the bag.

By: “Lucat”

Greetings Trinity College. It is I. I dutifully come to your aid. Yes, you. Write to me, children, divulge thine interrogation, and reap the rewards of mine wisdom.

Most Scrumptious Lucat, Being a socialist and living in Welch feels like a bad mix. Some students, especially one Newfie bastard, are preaching a confusing melange of Neo-Liberal Fiscal Conservatism. Please guide me.

Blessed be the kitty, Alone in Welch

Dear Alone in Welch, Stop cutting your hair. Smoke mad ganja. You must drown your existential angst in superbeer (beer + vodka shot). When you meet ladies, try not to vomit. One may think, golly, is there anything a woman loves more than projectile vomit? Yes. For instance: a slow dance whilst you stroke her with a giraffe puppet. In short, do what Marx would do. Rise up from below, and get some.

Cigarettes are cool, Lucat

My one, my only, my Lucat, I’m writing to you in most dire of circumstance. You see, there is this person, nay, this demon, roosting in my boudoir. It sleeps never. It fornicates always. How do I defeat this foe?

Impart your divine grace and wisdom, if thou pleaseth, Sleepless in Massey

Dear Sleepless in Massey, Chill. You must defile the one thing they love most. Yes, their socks. Start off subtle: Mismatch the socks. If this doesn’t work, go to Strachan Hall, fill up their socks with ketchup, and nail them to the ceiling above their bed. The blood of a thousand innocent socks will drip down on your poltergeist pal, adding that extra special sauce to their ravenous lovemaking.

Fear is power, Lucat

Oh Lucat! My Lucat! I see these people, they look old and scary. They wear bow ties and Brooks Brothers and have a decidedly sour disposition.

Who dey? Beffudled frosh

Oh, beffudled frosh, These strange beings… they are upper years. Now, these “people” will make mouth sounds (speak) and hand waves (gestures) that are far beyond reason, but worry not. Often spotted with beer bottle in hand or cigarette in mouth, or vice versa, they wish you no harm. In a year or two they’ll likely become a mysterious crumbly, because no one can truly escape the vacuum of the quad and the promise of trincest, sweet sweet trincest.There’s no escape, Lucat