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The Varsity’s Emails Stopped Finding Me Well and then 2020 Happened. Coincidence? 

Long story short, no, I don’t think this was a coincidence. The Varsity used to hope their emails found me well. And, you know what? They generally did. I mean, sometimes they found me stressed out in the EngSci common room studying vector calculus and fluid mechanics for a final that I would eventually fail, but I was allowed to be in the common room and it didn’t ever occur to me that I should be wearing a mask outside other than when I was snowboarding.  

Then, suddenly, the emails just stopped worrying about my wellbeing. And then, after a little bit of time because an immediate change would have been too obvious, the world turned to shit. There was a novel coronavirus spreading in China. America was on the brink of war with Iran. Australia was literally on fire. Heavily-armed, unregulated militias started storming state houses because they wanted haircuts. Police brutality protests were met with police brutality. Murder hornets were a thing and then suspiciously weren’t a thing. And about 20 other things happened that would have been the story of the year in 2019. And none of the emails I got found me well. 

Then, it hit me. It was someone’s fist because that’s just the world we live in now. But, as I was icing my jaw, a disturbing realization dawned on me. The constantly changing news cycle. The crazy stories that seem like they belong in a poorly written reality TV show or a soap opera. The emails no longer finding me well. It was all an elaborate plan cooked up by the staff at The Varsity to get people to pick up the latest issue. Think about it. Who else has anything to gain from a world literally and figuratively on fire.  

Well, guess what, Varsity? Your plan failed. It doesn’t matter how many emails find me the exact opposite of well. I am NOT going to read your test scripts for the series finale of Earth. I am not going to sit idly by while you destroy the planet for clicks. I am not going to let you punish the creatures of this out-of-control ball of rock hurtling through space because The Toike was crowned U of T’s premier publication. That’s right, I’m calling you out to our millions of readers. SO, STOP IT!