Beer and Groaning on the Campaign Trail ’15

The bell tolls for all you dumb voting fools./ Kyle Leitch

The bell tolls for all you dumb voting fools./ Kyle Leitch

Learn more about Dr. Kyle Escott, presidential candidate-at-large

Good morning/afternoon/evening/night, you filthy animal. The last time (Vol. 57, Issue 20, p. 18) we spoke, the unwashed, unchurched masses were shocked and vaguely aroused by your answers. So going against the tenants of common decency, and at the behest of my sensational editor, I have to yet again stoop down to the lowest denominator of public interest – an interview with the enigma that is, Dr. Kyle Escott.


So, Dr. Escott, what is your Ph.D. in? We’ve heard conflicting rumours and need to know the truth.


Wouldn’t you all like to know. I’m a doctor of journalism, God dammit! I also happen to be a master of politics, and a cunning linguist.


What does a day in life of Dr. Escott look like? Paint as vivid a picture as you can.


It begins with scotch and soda. Churchill called it mouthwash; I call it what I put in my fucking Wheaties, Bubba. From there, extensive writing, typically done on my typewriter, so as not to be traced. After arming myself to the teeth, I leave my fortified compound in Argyle Park to mail out said threatening letters. Back home to take a quality shit in the comfort of my own bathroom. Get semi-nude, equip the nearest heavy artillery, and go hunting. Return home, pop-eyeballed and sweating, fresh game in hand. Cook dinner, go back to bed. Extensive drinking/drug use throughout.


We understand you won’t be able to govern next semester, as you’ll be on a peyote-fuelled rampage across the American Southwest. If elected how will URSU react to your departure?


You’ll need a fine pair of golf shoes to make your way through the blood, let me tell you. The lizards at URSU can get around in it because they have claws on their feet! Christ, you’ll be lucky if they don’t spot you lot and tear you to shreds.


The U of R sign cost nearly $1 million, how would you like to improve it?


I would have built it a hundred and fifty vertical feet tall, for starters. Upon my death, I would be blasted out of a cannon strategically built into the sign. “There he goes,” the administration would say. “The closest that twisted motherfucker’ll ever get to heaven.”


What’s your stance on the U-Pass? 


Ho ho. 90 dollars a student to help some neo-fascists get to school? If everyone in this berg lived between Sask Drive and 14th, in between Albert and Broad, you would see transit improve. It needs more than a once a year injection of close to million dollars to improve your archaic system. Until then, I’m driving my Great Silver Shark to work, thanks.


Boxers, briefs or fig leaves?


I assume you mean for wearing. I sleep nude, if you must know. If I’m forced to wear undergarments, then it’s usually the pelt of a bear that I tore off with my own two goddamn hands. The bear was a good sport about it, too.


And people you’d like to thank at this stage in your campaign? Jesus? Satan? Tupac? Jeff Bridges? 


Hehehe. I suppose I’d like to thank the Lord, for having the good sense to know that if He takes me, I’m His problem.

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