Violet R. Blu

By Violet R. Blu • Vol 5, Issue 7 • April 6, 2026

Just weeks ahead of Carnival, Sweepstakes has dropped a bombshell on all buggy teams: due to existing rules prohibiting mass loss during a race, the “live birth method” is officially banned. In previous years, buggy drivers would impregnate themselves prior to Carnival, nourishing the fetus with Stack’d and melatonin gummies. Then, they would induce labor the morning of race day.

The method unfolds in two parts. As the driver takes the first downhill, they must fight to stay pregnant. Extra weight means extra momentum, and on the course, every kilogram meter per second matters. While some train their pelvic …

By Violet R. Blu • Vol 5, Issue 6 • March 27, 2026

Every freshman comes to CMU with the same dream. They may have different passions, but when they stand up at convocation, each one has the same thought in their mind: my very own Faustian contract is just around the corner. Unfortunately, achieving this dream is easier for some than it is for others. While engineers lock eyes with Lockheed Martin and programmers become pals with Palantir, students of the liberal and fine arts often feel left out. As a humanist myself, I understand the pain of having an unmarketable soul. That’s why I’ve compiled a list of high paying, dastardly …

By Violet R. Blu • Vol 5, Issue 5 • March 13, 2026

Since the dawn of humankind, the practice of wrestling has been used to determine social pecking orders. Countless fighters, from the Greeks to the Mughals to John Cena, have earned alpha status by turning their opponents into emasculated area rugs. It doesn’t matter whether people wrestle with bodies, arms, or thumbs. All variants of wrestling serve the same purpose: demonstrating the power of one person over another. This age-old purpose is what led to tongue wrestling, the newest frontier of the sport.

Wrestler Youssef Nassar, known professionally as Y/N, has pioneered an entirely new form of wrestling. He credits …

By Violet R. Blu • Vol 5, Issue 4 • Feb. 25, 2026

If you’re anything like me, you’ve been living through crazy times. Every piece of news from the town crier spikes your cortisol, disgusting soldiers keep asking to sleep with you, and herbal teas have become STUPIDLY expensive. (Seriously, girls. You might as well throw your money in the Boston Harbor.)

All of this stress is a recipe for breakouts. If your face looks like a topographical map of Bunker Hill, you’re not alone. We’ve received postage from readers across the colonies complaining that their skin is more oily than the inside of a musket. To all of these concerned …