Letter from the President

Special IssueJudy Woodsworth — Published March 29, 2011

DISCLAIMER: All of this content is false. None of it is real. It’s meant to amuse and have a good laugh on what was an overly serious year at this university. If you get mad or for one fleeting moment think that any of this is real, please put this newspaper down and walk away. Seriously. Thank you.


Don’t believe what you read in the newspapers, I’m still president of Concordia University.

I know what you’re thinking, “Hey didn’t Woods sign a letter of resignation in return for blood diamonds and an Island off the coast of Malta?”

Well, yes, yes I did but what people have to realize is that not all contracts are binding. Now I may not know spit about lawyering or properly administrating a university, but I do know this: if you cross your fingers when you sign a contract it’s null and void.

It’s the law. Not Canadian law, but I’m pretty sure I saw it on Boston Legal once.

It’s like when you mercilessly beat your assistant for calling you Judy. Ordinarily, repeatedly bludgeoning someone with a telephone receiver is assault and battery. But if you look out the window and see a yellow car beforehand, all is forgiven.

“Yellow car no punch back!” Ah, memories.

And it’s not like the new guy is going to be around for long. He’s a relic. He’s so old, the only time he doesn’t have to go pee is when he’s peeing. Did you like that one? I’ve been using my unlimited supply of free time to work on a standup comedy act.

In any case, everyone makes mistakes. So I fired a few auditors, some senior administrators and let the architect of modern Concordia leave for a lower-paying job at McGill. And, of course, who can forget the time I “accidentally” drove my Audi into hordes of student protesters? I miss that car; it really handled well.

So now that that’s cleared up let’s give me back the key to the President’s office and we’ll forget any of this unpleasantness ever happened.

Besides, if you don’t give me back the key I’ll just break into the office and pretend I was never fired. And no matter how hard you try to kick me out again, I’ll just keep jimmying my way back into this place. In fact, I already have. I’m writing this letter from my old desk (let me tell you something, it’s going to take a hell of a lot of Febreeze to get the old man stench out of this office).

Well I’d better wrap this up, I can hear security kicking down the barricades I made outside the office. In closing, never let the… oh shit here they come.

This article originally appeared in Volume 31, Issue 28, published March 29, 2011.