Editorial The End: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the General Tenets. I am the last Scorch Editor left due to my procrastination and sloth. The rest of the staff finished their pages a couple hours ago and nobly committed seppuku, a Japanese form of ritual suicide committed in order to retain honor and nobility.

Women commit seppuku by a simple knife stab to the throat. For men it is slightly more complicated. They must cut horizontally through the abdomen, followed by an upward cut to spill out the intestines. You must not make a sound during this process, lest you die without honor. Most people committing seppuku have a kaishakunin, a second available to behead them to end the clensing pain.

My only regret about my procrastination is that it means I have no kaishakunin; I’m not looking forward to spilling my intestines all by my lonesome.

It also means I must explain to you, our faithful Scorch readers, why your entire staff has shuffled off the mortal coil and joined the choir invisible. Last year, the printing of The Scorch hurt the feelings of some of our most valued readers. This is unconscionable, and we regret it every day of our lives (of which this will be the last). Above all else, we value the approval of our readers. And so we have struggled with this year’s Scorch not to offend or hurt anyone.

But, as we all know, there’s no pleasing everyone. And so, rather than live with the guilt of doing irreparable harm to our beloved readers, we must do what is just and decent and commit ritual suicide with our respectability intact. We choose the Japanese form of ritual suicide, seppuku, to further demonstrate to the VU campus our commitment to multiculturalism and the inclusiveness of other ways of thinking and acting that is the cornerstone of our new global village.

Some of you may be asking yourself, “well, why don’t they just not print it?” And we wouldn’t, if we had any other choice. We all desperately would like to live. But we must go to the presses with news. We have a duty to you, dear reader, to deliver the news, even though it may cost us our lives. We are journalists. Well, we were journalists. Now we’re just cooling corpses. But I’m still a journalist, until I finish this article and join the rest of the staff in the Void.

Goodbye, dear reader. And for what it’s worth, we’re sorry.

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