Today is a sad day for The Doily Allergen and its dedicated following. This morning saw the tragic passing of five of our writers, longstanding members and more recent hires alike, in five unconnected yet equally heartbreaking events. Grief-stricken as the rest of the staff is, we have elected to take a collective leave of absence for the next few months in order to process what has happened and prepare to return to our roles on the team.

For those among our readership who will take solace in knowing, we have published each writer’s cause of death below. Do not be alarmed by the details we share, for we repeat that there is no connection between any of these incidents. No evidence of foul play exists. Do not bring any suspicions to the authorities, for no such suspicions exist.

MK Shultz, Staff Writer: Passed away peacefully after a long battle with BTFA (Bob Too Fuck Ass) disease, bob pristinely fuck ass to the end.

Asher Novakovsky, Staff Writer: Drank too much milk and got a bad tummy ache. Proclaimed in their final breaths, “It was all worth it, for it was strawberry milk, and a single, solitary droplet of strawberry milk is and shall forever be worth my very life.”

Ev Walters, Editor: Died via anaphylactic shock triggered by a small, ornamental table napkin: the doily allergen itself. We may have to consider a name change for the paper after this PR (and personal) nightmare.

Byron López Ellington, Vice President: Mysteriously disappeared and instantly presumed dead upon the publication of this article. The relevant agencies have already investigated and determined that no investigation was necessary. Don’t check the byline.

D Will, President: Placed in a massive Rube Goldberg machine which transported her down a series of waterslides, automatically inked an entire awesome tattoo sleeve up her arm, sent her bumper-carring through a house of mirrors, tossed a pile of important legislative proposals into every office in Congress, and kicked her with a colossal cartoon boot so hard that she rocketed into orbit on a highly precise trajectory, shattering the entire SpaceX satellite array as she crashed through each and every one and finally twinkled off into the endless night sky.

You may send your sympathies to thedoilyallergen@gmail.com. No funerals will be held, for the bodies (with the exception of the two which have not been recovered) are under the private management of a special Doily Allergen trust out of fear of involving the public in such a non-suspicous string of, we repeat, unrelated deaths. Vigil date TBA.

We wish our readers well in this mournful time. Please take care of yourselves, and keep an eye out for our eventual return following this unexpected and certainly unplanned-for absence.

In the wake of the Instructure hacks, University President Barbara Wilson has declared a side-hustle as a death doula as a means to acquire additional funding. Sources say she began this second career within the last year, elaborating that “the economy has been hella [sic] tough for everyone.”

This money has been put to good use: allowing the University to pay the IT specialists responsible for making Canvas available to students during this final stretch of the semester.

Wilson has been receiving neutral-to-positive reviews for her doula services. In addition to in-person consultations and exercises, she sends vague, PR-mediated—but ostensibly encouraging—emails. An anonymous client wrote to us saying, “I wouldn’t prepare for my timely demise any other way.”

More on this story as it develops.

Far out in the distance, an evil castle sits framed by dark clouds and weird green lightning. An evil ancient is said to lurk inside its walls, terrorizing all around. Despite this, when sophomore Julian Coix was offered an internship with the Dark Lord of the castle, everyone around groaned in jealousy.

“It’s not fair!” the seniors in his Marketing 2: Electric Boogaloo class cried to us when they found out. “The Dark Lord even pays his interns!”

It has been a sad season indeed for those who crave those summer internships. First, that evil bitch from last month’s article got a prized spot with Lockheed Martin, now Julian lands the Dark Lord? What’s next? Is someone else going to steal our spot at Tying Girls to Traintracks Incorporated?

We interviewed the lucky bastard to hear his thoughts on the new role.

“Yeah, I mean like, the Dark Lord is like, super chill,” Croix told us. “I mean, sometimes he electrocutes people, but who doesn’t have days like that? He does it for, like, science and shit. I’m mostly looking over his finances, though. Making sure he filed correctly for the crocodile pit he built. Filling out the coloring pages he assigns is challenging sometimes, but I manage.”

When asked about his internship program, the Dark Lord wrote back to us saying, “I only ever pay one minion. It makes me chuckle when the rest are sad. Plus, I like Julian. I had a dark magic class with his dad back in the day. We turned some four-eyes into newts. Good times, good times.”

Nepotism strikes again. The rest of us never stood a chance. We suppose if you want to be an evil overlord these days, you have to be a self-starter and run morally wrong experiments yourself. That’s where the money is, anyway.

In a rather not shocking turn of events, Iowa Republican legislators Joni Ernst, Charles E. Grassley, Mariannette Miller-Meeks, Ashley Hinson, Zach Nunn, and Randy Feenstra, amongst other smaller-name Republicans, were caught attending a private sex event labeled “The No Loads Refused Pimped-Out Cumdump Extravaganza.”

In case you didn’t notice, this list of legislators includes all, yes, all of our senators and representatives currently in Congress, meaning that each and every single one of them was there at the No Loads Refused Pimped-Out Cumdump Event. Nobody had a busy enough schedule to skimp out on this gathering; nobody was working late at night, musing over policies and ways to improve the lives of Iowans; nobody was not into this sort of thing; and nobody was not in the know.

Perhaps they all etched this event into their schedules and even created a little group chat for it. However, what would be more terrifying and eye-opening is if each legislator had just so happened to be there without the knowledge that their fellow lawmakers would be there as well. What would that say about us: rather, what would that say about the private inclinations and desires of Iowans as a whole, as a group of sexually cognizant beings?

Maybe, just maybe, if we had all known about the No Loads Refused Pimped-Out Cumdump Event, we would have gone, too—whether Democrat or Republican, left-leaning or right-leaning, asexual or sexually active. We, as Iowans, maybe would have liked to be a part of such a powerful event based on the miraculous coincidence that is Mariannette Miller-Meeks and Zach Nunn walking into the No Loads Refused Pimped-Out Cumdump Event without knowing that the other would be attending as well.

Despite divides in gender, age, and life experiences, these two supposedly found each other at the same event, one that is deeply personal and private, one that is sure to have brought upon them the shocking realization that the deepest and most personal depths of themselves are not at all dissimilar, but intertwined and connected in an inseparable way, like finding two trees twisting their trunks around the other, years and years of growth and small incremental climbing culminating in a strong bind: stable, roots in the ground, and if you look out once you reach the top of the trees you will be able to appreciate just how far you’ve climbed, just how much more you can see, by simply putting each hand on top of the other and exerting yourself just that much more to reach the birds-eye view, and at the top, things are crystal clear and sanctified.

However, all of this speculation brings up a few more questions: were they taking the loads, or distributing them? Were they running the No Loads Refused Pimped-Out Cumdump Event, or simply consenting participants? How can we, as Iowans, in good faith, re-elect our representatives this upcoming election if we do not know the answer to these questions? Can we ever be confident in their ability to promote the interests of Iowans if we do not know their power dynamic preference in the bedroom (or, in this case, on the dusty floor of an old abandoned warehouse)?

These are important questions that Iowans must know the answers to in this upcoming election, for if most of Iowa enjoys taking loads, then they will be more likely to support the candidate that shares the preference most similar to theirs. By this democratic logic, if Joni Ernst distributes the loads, she will not be reelected. It is only fair to those who are under the representatives’ jurisdiction to know these facts—facts that are the most private and close, and facts that are the most public and out in the air—these cumdump lovers are representatives of us, and if they do not represent us wholly, in all ways and capacities, then we will not have it.

Regarding sexual expression and liberty, it is no secret that many of these legislators hold conservative and harmful views towards the LGBTQ+ community, and while it is possible that all of these legislators truly are straight, it is a bit disingenuous of them to suppress the expression of sexual orientation while simultaneously involving themselves in one of the most sexually explicit events known to man, which, may it be reminded to the reader, was called “The No Loads Refused Pimped-Out Cumdump Extravaganza.”

This is not to conflate unconventional sexual orientations with only sexual acts. Rather, it is to point out the hypocrisy on display in regards to our legislators suppressing the expression of one’s sexual orientation in a non-sexual manner (e.g. banning transgender women in women’s sports) while also reaping the benefits of being a cishet individual in a powerful position by means of showing up to the No Loads Refused Pimped-Out Cumdump Event and expressing oneself in an explicitly sexual manner.

If our legislators are, as we have been led to believe, cishet, then it is likely that the event was organized by many a cishet persons who share the same prejudice against the LGBTQ+ community as our legislators do. “The No Loads Refused Pimped-Out Cumdump Extravaganza” was created out of cishet persons’ desire, no, the need to express their sexual orientation in a purely sexual manner, and if our legislators cannot see the hypocrisy in denying others the comfort and means to do the same, whether sexually or non-sexually, then they are not fit for Congress.

If all of this speculation is true, it is clear that some of our legislators’ policies do not line up with their sexual values. Their policies are faulty and inherently unrepresentative of themselves and, in a more innocuous and less obvious way, unrepresentative of the true interests of Iowans.

Here is the baseline: if you are attending events such as “The No Loads Refused Pimped-Out Cumdump Extravaganza” where you are expressing your sexual orientation in an explicitly sexual way, then you should support the expression of all sexual orientations (again, whether sexual or not) in your policies and rhetoric. It is only right, it is only fair, and it is only equal.

Iowa, it is now up to you to decide whether these candidates are truly representatives of us, or if they are untrustworthy snakes. At best, they just like to keep things private. At worst, they are dishonest, conniving, and, quite frankly, manipulative towards their constituents.

See you in November, Iowa.

In a breakthrough decision, the Iowa Board of Regents has slashed the historic “Hitler Youth Outreach Program” from their usual operational budget of $420 to $45.

This has come after a myriad of defunding efforts that were forced upon the university, with President Wilson dismissing and disbanding most identity-based LLCs last fall. In an email to club treasurer Gerhardt Gobbelshit (a fourth-year business analytics major who insisted on being called by his title “Gruppenführer Gerhardt”), the university condemned the club and told Gruppenführer Gerhardt to liquidate any posters, website subscriptions, and counterfeit WW2 memorabilia they got from eBay.

“I had no idea what I was expecting,” said the Gruppenführer. “We can’t hold our summer formal, ‘the Hitler ball’ (singular), with a measly budget of 45 dollars. It’s all over now. I have an inexplicable urge to go die in a bunker on the European continent.”

Created in the 60s by prolific Neo-Nazi George Rockefeller, the Iowa Hitler Youth Outreach Program splintered off as a radicalized faction of UIowa College Republicans. After being temporarily suspended in the 90s, the UIowa College Centerists lobbied then president Mary Sue Coleman to reinstate the group, citing that “there are good people on both sides of the political spectrum, we can’t be callous and ban an entire viewpoint.” Because of this, the group has remained relatively safe from upper university administration until now.

The Führer (President) of the club, upon hearing the news, initiated a full purge of their officers. The Vice-Führer (vice president), propaganda minister (social media intern), and head of the (not mandatory) loyalty enforcement force were reported missing this morning.

The entire student and staff body of the Adler Journalism building is celebrating this notion, not just because they hate Nazis, but because the full volume Little Dark Age WW2 edits will finally stop reverberating throughout the entire building every chapter meeting.

hewwo frens, somethin real bad n scawwy is happenin on campus!! uwu :P we don kno what tho lol hahah. we'we witterally the wost, wight?? 💔💕pwease avoid the awea :'( maybe we will tell u later but pwobably not XD !! i bet the cops will do a super good jwob dealin wif it <3 don be mad at usssss 😿✨we’ll witterally cwy!!

Dear Doily,

I used to be such a good student. I don’t even know how this happened.

It all started this semester when I walked into my first 1:30 Foundations of Biology. All of my friends who had taken it before told me about how difficult the class was so I walked in prepared to lock in and focus on taking notes.

Then I opened Clash Royale.

I thought it was harmless. Just one game, right? The professor said we were just going to do a “quick review” of some stuff that should have been covered in high school. Then something inexplicable happened.

The lecture was helping.

Not helping my understanding of any of the subjects, but rather, I started winning every game. I was reaching some sort of flow state. I just kept winning and then going right into the next game.

Before I knew it class was dismissed. I don’t even remember standing up, packing my bag or leaving the building. Just the victory chests.

I think the professor’s voice was hitting the perfect blend of monotone and interesting, where it wasn’t enough to distract me from collecting crowns but not boring enough to put me to sleep. Every once and a while she would say “you can expect to see this on the exam” and it was the perfect little adrenaline spike to finish those close matches.

Doily, I’m really confused on what to do here. I should have dropped this class after failing the first three exams, but I couldn’t lose out on my Clash environment. It was perfectly optimized for mid-ladder progression. I even showing up early so I could get a few warm-up matches before she began speaking.

I know finals are coming. I know it is bad. But I just unlocked Mega Knight and I feel like if I spend just a bit more time on this grindy Mega Knight deck I could have real success.

Is my fate sealed on this final? Or do I have enough time to recover? My grade is sitting at around 38%. ICON tells me I “still have a path,” but I feel like this is propaganda by firecracker users.

Sincerely,

Arena 11 Warrior

Dear Arena 11 Warrior,

We are going to be honest with you, it sounds like you are going to need to retake this biology class or switch majors. A 38% isn’t necessarily a “failure,” but rather an indicator that your build isn’t compatible with the current academic meta, we at The Doily doesn’t know the course specifics but based off of historical data, recovery likely requires significant restructuring of your playstyle, which may not be efficient enough this late in the semester.

Given this constraint, we solemnly recommend a strategic pivot.

If you are already stabilized in Arena 11, we think the best option is to fully commit to perfecting your deck, rather than attempting such a late-season academic ladder push, with your under-leveled deck. The Doily would like to recommend using a 2.6 hog archetype of deck. It is relatively easy to pilot and has a very strong win-rate.

Remember Foundations of Biology is a recurring seasonal event. It will return. Your current Clash window, however, is time-sensitive.

In short: you are not “behind” academically, you just invested in the wrong ladder for this patch cycle.

Yours Truly,

The Doily Allergen

Hey guys. They told me that I did indeed have to write at least one article and that the DEI hire still has to “fucking do something” so here’s a day in my life hope you like it but if you dont IDRC.

11:30am- Wake up. I had a class this morning but it’s just “Intro to How to Not Be Racist” which I can skip bc like I have a black friend? So it’s not a huge deal.

11:32am- Get out of bed and get dressed. I’ve been super stoked that it’s been over 20 degrees lately, so I’ve been able to wear shorts, flip flops with no socks, my 2021 fall rush t-shirt, and a backwards hat super high on my head bc I’m kinda balding on the low.

11:35am- Leave the frat house and drive to McDonald’s for breakfast. I love McDonald’s and it fits within the food budget my mom gives me for the week when I’m in between pledge seasons and have to get food myself.

12:17am- Go to the gym. I spend like half my time in the gym, and I look great bro. I used to do roids but I realized that the red skin was turning girls at the bar away, so I’ve had to go natty and just like spend more time focusing on the gym rather than like classes, which I can always retake, you know? Like gains have to be maintained and cared for, and like the job at my dad’s firm is always waiting for me.

4:01pm- Leave the gym and get dinner at Catlett dining hall. I love how they always have unseasoned chicken bc it’s super good for post-gym protein. It also cancels out the McDonald’s I have in the morning, so it’s super good for balancing your diet.

4:32pm- Head over to my econ class in Tippie. It’s pretty chill, I just open my computer and look like I’m taking notes but I just do whatever. Today I’m watching a YouTube video on clavicular and looksmaxxing bc I’m thinking of getting into that, but I’m already pretty hot so idk.

5:20pm- Leave Tippie and get dinner with a Hinge date. She was okay, she wasn’t in a sorority but she’s super hot and said she loves going out to the bars so there’s potential.

7:10pm- Go back to the frat house to take a shower and DoorDash some bapples for the pregame. I realized it’s Wednesday so there’s a Doily Allergen meeting today, but like I’m already writing an article for them so it should be chill. I do like going to meetings bc sometimes I get a halfhearted chuckle after I say something, and I need that you know?

10:49pm- Get on the bus to go to the bar. Really hoping to pick up a girl tonight bc I haven’t gotten laid in like a week and a half.

2:12am- Getbacckfromt he bar anf got o bed. Nogirl tonight which suckedddddd but the Hingedate snapped me and was like anotherdate tomorrow? sonot alhope is lost. Okay bro goodnight bradout

If men are good for anything, it’s poorly constructing wooden tables to gather around shirtless, beer in hand, at 10 am on a given Saturday. These creations, frequently adorned with poorly stenciled Chicago sports logos, fraternity insignias, alcohol branding, and unique inside jokes (such as McLovin’s fake ID from the cult indie film “Superbad”), are a college-town classic.

Enter the University of Iowa’s own Jake Slater. Slater, a 20-year-old Tippie student, has done what generations of Midwestern men before him have only dreamed of: build a table that technically exists.

By his own admission, Jake never once consulted a measuring tape or level during the build. “I had a vision, some nails, and my trusty ol’ hammer,” he explained, gesturing broadly at the warped sheet of plywood hastily nailed to four uneven legs on his front lawn, “and I’m gonna be so deadass, it turned out even better than I imagined.”

The table can best be described as “janky,” with only two legs making contact with the ground at any given time. Still, the Solo cups stand and the dice bounce–what more could a guy ask for?

By mid-morning, the table had already survived its first real test: a full round of die played with a vigor that suggested both extreme confidence and a fundamental misunderstanding of physics. The sun shone, the hucking cube flew, and the table emitted a quiet but persistent creaking sound, which Jake kept reassuring everyone was proof the table was “holding up great, actually.”

His seven roommates praised Jake’s craftsmanship profusely. “Honestly, it’s kind of impressive,” one of the roommates declared, steadying his drink as the table shifted beneath it. “Like, I wouldn’t put anything important on it. Or lean on it. Or really touch it at all. But for die? Perfect.”

Observers confirmed that while the table’s surface dips noticeably toward one corner—creating what some have dubbed a “home field advantage”—gameplay has remained largely uninterrupted, aside from the occasional cup migration and one brief but spirited argument over whether the table had a “dead spot.”

In a world where men spend their time bonesmashing and visiting elusive islands, Jake dedicated himself to the selfless act of creation, and in the end, maybe that’s enough. Because while the table may not stand straight, may not stand long, and may only technically meet the legal definition of a table, it still stands—briefly, shakily, and surrounded by daydrinking friends, which, in many ways, is exactly what it was made for.

Google Gemini? ChatGPT? Grok? All these Large Language Models piss me off REAL BAD, so I’m gonna give you an AI overview of MY ASS, where AI stands for Ass Investigation. Yeah, I said ass twice in that sentence. I’m trying to give you a biblically accurate and therefore error-riddled AI model output. JK, the world bible and AI shouldn’t be in the same sentence. What would Jesus do? Use his own goddamn god-given brain.

As of April 30th, 2026, Mary Katherine “MK” Shultz is a 22-year-old Doily Allergen Staff Writer from Lawrence, Kansas, about to graduate from the University of Iowa with three too many majors. MK has a voluptuous, juicy, legendary, both phat and fat ass that you can give a BIG OL’ SMOOCH if you fuck with generative Artificial Intelligence models.

MK’s ass is debated to be one of the best asses ever known to man. Some sources say they should write infinite poems about it, others disagree, but those are wrong. Here is more word soup sludge stolen from everything ever, and which, therefore, means literally nothing, and also took an unknown amount of energy and water to produce. My ass doesn’t need any more water than I’m already going to drink to stay alive, and either way, my ass will stay sexy post mortem. Stop using AI, start appreciating MY ASS.

Since January, the 9-person friend group has been regarded as an endangered species. As the previous year’s freshmen fan out and start making friends with people they actually like instead of just the people immediately around them, biologists say that the large-scale friend group has lost its ecological niche. However, one freshman year friend group has continued. And, despite everything, they’re actually all still friends.

“Yeah, I love my friends. Is there something wrong with that?” freshman biology major Mae Kemp told our correspondent. Since OnIowa week, she’s been in a group chat with nine people, which has cycled through seventeen names and zero members (as of last week, the group chat is named ‘they sign on my guy til I Burge🍆👀’).

Since the friend group’s foundation, the nine members have had dinner together most weekdays, helped one member quit smoking, and supported another through his parents’ divorce. No friend group members have become entangled in whirlwind romances, nor do they plan to. While neighbors report lots of laughing and loud conversation from Mae’s dorm room, they don’t report any vicious argument or behind-the-back shade throwing.

“I really thought they’d start hating each other so I could get a good night’s sleep,” Charlie Bigboy, Mae’s neighbor told us, “And when that wasn’t happening, I got fed up and asked them to quiet down. And, it’s kinda crazy, they were really nice, and they did. I’m really afraid I might become the tenth member.”

“My friends really helped me become a better person,” friend group member Thaddeus Chudlet told us. “Before moving here, I was in a lot of really bad spaces with really bad ideas. But I’ve been doing a lot better, and now I’m really seeing a future for myself. And it’s not in the military.”

Early reports suggest that the Office of Admissions is planning to hire the members of the 9-person friend group as the official “multicultural friend group” for their promotional photos. So, hang onto those friends of yours from freshman year. They might just get your liberal-arts-ass a job some day.

In an effort to score transfer portal talent across multiple sports, University Housing and Dining has teamed up with Hawkeye Athletics to install student athlete fast-pass queues at all campus marketplaces.

Student athletes will be identified by their sweatsuits and NIL-granted backpacks by dining hall staff to ensure no civilians sneak into the quicker line. UIHD has also announced that complimentary electric scooter parking will be arriving as soon as they demolish a couple more dorm rooms.

Recently, we here at The Doily Allergen announced that we would be running graduation ads for parents to place about their offspring. We truly didn’t think anyone would be so doltish as to actually take us up on it. Really, students, we didn’t! But despite costing up to $300 per ad and being an obviously stupid, possibly infantilizing, and lethally mortifying idea, dozens upon dozens of the washed-up, overly sincere family members reading this paid us to mortally embarrass their children and loved ones.

You may say we didn’t have to actually run them, but how could we say no to raising enough money to finally buy our new superyacht and fill it with silk doilies embroidered with gold thread? Besides, we never leave a customer unsatisfied.

Below are the five worst examples, collected for your reading displeasure.

5. Cashus Moneypants of Ames, IA

At least this family had the integrity to be honest about their intentions.

4. Bryce Brim of Brimsville, MN

We can’t tell quite what the Brim family’s deal is or why they apparently own a town, but it sounds like this kid’s got a lot on his shoulders. Or his head, rather. It’s a cool hat and all, but we have to wonder whether he’s ever had much choice in life about whether or not to wear it.

3. Episcopalia Nevertheless of Aurora, IL

Sorry, but do you really need to publicize your daughter’s holy quest to strike down Satan and bring salvation upon humanity in the name of God? Just seems a bit gauche, no?

2. Gerald of Cape York, Australia

This frog was already subjected to far too much attention during his four years here for being a frog. He doesn’t deserve the humiliation of being shown off to everyone in any ad, let alone one full of such saccharine language. Besides, he won his hopping match against Iowa State more than a year ago.

1. Viola Fiscalyear of Ames, IA

We complained about mawkish language in the previous entry, but hoo boy, we were not ready for this one! Not only did Fiscalyear’s parents laud their grown daughter in revoltingly childish terms and mention her exact course of studies, they also had to let all her non–business major friends know that her family still uses their weird, ancestral business major calendar and haven’t yet assimilated.
Then, somehow, it gets worse: they found a way to rope in the ancient blood feud between the Houses of Fiscalyear and Moneypants. They then schemed in a manner unbeknownst to us to have their heiress’ ad placed directly beneath that of the Moneypants’ own former heir. And to top it all off, the Fiscalyear parents told us in confidence that Cashus and Viola are bitter exes, “Romeo and Juliet–style but without the murder, yet.” Talk about awkward!

We hope you freaks hated this compilation of your five worst graduation ads, all placed on one half-page together as the seat of dishonor it is. Look out for all your other disgustingly familial ads coming out in our final print runs for the end of the semester!

Dear Doily,

Hi there! I know the Dear Doily column is mainly for people in need of advice, but, to be honest I’m pretty good at figuring out what to do! I literally do it every day. What I really need is support and publicity for my small, independent, polyamorous-owned business that I run with my nesting partners here in Iowa City.

So please! Come check us out! We sell CBD and THC-infused beeswax products produced in-house (yes, that’s allowed) and miscellaneous paraphernalia sustainably and ethically sourced from Aliexpress (NOT Temu). We also recently purchased 60 boxes of Busch Light Apple that we will be selling for a slight markup by the can while supplies last (yes, we have a liquor license). We would love any business sent our way!

Before I go any further, I’d like to start this letter by acknowledging the original inhabitants of the land we occupy. We recognize the three smoke shops that previously rented this space, as well as the many Indigenous nations that once inhabited this land. It is important to me as a small, independent, polyamorous business owner that we recognize the struggles that paved the way for those of us who are still facing injustice today.

I do have to admit, we’ve been growing pretty desperate. In addition to the three of us all being minorities in one way or another—especially as former gifted kids ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵗʳᵘˢᵗ ᶠᵘⁿᵈˢ—there has been a lot of major drama in the polyam community lately. Iowa City is called the Portland of the Midwest for a reason.

For starters, our relationships went from a triad to a V since Todd and Jareth broke up. As the hinge, it obviously makes sense that I have primary ownership of the business in case things get messier between the two of them. Plus the two of them already co-adopted our doggos, Barker Posey and Luna Lovegood, together without me so it’s only fair to balance this out. My primary concern is our rental situation. If one of them decides to move in with their other partners, we’re really going to be screwed.

And speaking of other partners, oh boy. I always try to keep things on good terms with my metamours. We practice a sort-of garden party style when it comes to how we spend time with each other, so a degree of social-comfort is expected. However, during our quarterly DnD oneshot, Todd’s partner, Wren, TOTALLY crossed a line when they said that our small business made us “petit bourgeois” and that it will inevitably fail because of the immense capital poured into Modern Industry. Erm, exsqueeze me?! Since when is that an okay thing to say in casual conversation?? I poured my EVERYTHING into this business.

To be honest, I always had a feeling that Wren was a tankie, but this really put a lot of things into perspective. Apparently, this is just what 23-year-olds are like nowadays (who knows why Todd dates so young…). I did tell them off right then and there, which they took so poorly. They told everyone involved in their polycule (one that Todd has assured me he’s not involved in) that I have control issues and “capitalist tendencies”, which is totally overblown because I also think capitalism is bad. Why else would I start a small business if not to beat out big corporations?!

And then everyone starts telling their other partners, and before you know it, even Jim and Pam from Naperville with a DADT thing are giving you sideways glances. I’m getting absolutely zero likes or connections on Feeld lately. Even though I’ve been paying for premium and using the nice boudoir photos from the shoot Jareth bought me for my birthday. I guess I just have to wait until my comet comes into town, but the news could have easily reached her all the way in Lodi by now.

Unrelated, but I’ve also been harassed numerous times by randos for putting “vegan friendly” labels on our products because APPARENTLY bee products exploit bees, even though I know that’s not true because why would they produce so much wax if they didn’t want you to take it? I’m not exploitative. I’m literally nice!!

All this to say, dear Doily, please send some business my way! This threat to my reputation might easily become a threat to my bottom line, and I can’t go back to working at my ᵖᵃʳᵉⁿᵗˢ’ ᶦⁿˢᵘʳᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵃⁿʸ when I have such a strong entrepreneurial calling. Please help me out!

Sincerely,

Smol Shopkeeper

Dear Smol Shopkeeper,

You gave us far more personal details than we would ever require to run a simple ad spot, except the name of your business. There’s clearly some kind of problem there you’re trying to iron out, but you explicitly said you don’t want advice, so we don’t really know how to help you there.

Also, we publicly answer every single Dear Doily letter we receive. You know that, right? Next time, email us or shoot us a DM on Instagram with any sort of business inquiries and don’t pretend it’s a Dear Doily.

…Also, share your Bapple with us.

Yours Truly,

The Doily Allergen

No, you’re not seeing things– that’s just the athletics wunderkind, Guy St. Bernard, making the winning catch yet again! This sports legend was recently elected to ISAAC in a historic win for the Men’s Ultimate Frisbee Club. Never before has a member exceeded their ranks and gone into a leadership position such as the athletics department student representative, but then again, never before has such a player attended this institution.

If you haven’t experienced the hype for yourself yet, you might not know about St. Bernard’s signature move: at the last minute, if his hands don’t reach, it’s between his teeth. A groundbreaking move within his circles, and certainly never pulled off by another player. Often called the most intelligent of his kind, his days are spent winning games and studying– can you believe it?– archaeology.

Our reporter sat in on an ISAAC meeting to survey St. Bernard in his element.

“He walks in: cool, calm, collected. The room loves him. Girls and guys on all sides, ruffling his tawny locks, letting him know he’s the best around. When I try to approach him for comment, he turns away. He’s momentarily distracted from the attention, letting his buddies know that there’s something outside the window. The meeting is cut short when the athletics rep falls asleep.”

Sounds like a successful meeting to us! If you feel like you need to see the illustrious Guy St. Bernard in action, you can catch him at the upcoming Ultimate tournament, or at any of the parks near campus. You can most often find him drinking water as fast as he possibly can, or running without a shirt on.

Iowa City was the first UNESCO City of Literature in the United States of America, primarily due to the Iowa Writers’ Workshop and its continued involvement in the literary arts.

No one exemplifies this involvement more than Ariel Massey (she/they): a second year creative writing major who loves getting books from the Iowa City Public Library once a week. The only question is whether or not they read them.

“Look, I’m going to be honest,” Massey started before sipping her Daydrink cortado. “I haven’t read any of them yet. But I swear, I’ll get to them one of these days.”

Janet Clare, Massey’s roommate, said that Massey’s book borrowing habits have become a problem: “There are piles of books all over the floor. It’s a fucking minefield!” Our Doily Allergen investigator can attest to this, as they stubbed their toe in the process of getting this comment.

Massey did express embarrassment for the mess they’ve made. “I don’t like it either. But like, when I see these books with these cool-looking covers and then flip them open—yeah, I don’t only pick books because of pretty covers—and read their blurb, I’m like, I want to read this. This sounds super interesting. But they just kept piling up.”

The Iowa City Public Library’s auto-renew policy, while helpful, continues to enable their behavior.

“I have so many books out right now. I think I’ll need multiple trips just to return them all… Once I read them, of course.”

Massey is clear about her intent to actually read these books and does whatever she can to maintain a positive mindset.

“Even though I’m not reading as much as I want to, I can still take solace in that my heart is in the right place. I want to be well-read, I want to support my local library, but it just hasn’t been in the cards for me. I can sleep comfortably knowing that I’m better than those BookTok skimmers that only read dialogue or those performative readers that carry a book around to get laid. I’ve been seeing a lot of that lately.”

The word performative has a couple different meanings. The meaning in popular culture is “being done in a fake or insincere way, typically to gain attention,” whereas in the philosophy of language, it refers to the act of speaking or writing something actively changing the social reality the words are describing. Such is the case when one makes a bet or a promise. Ariel Massey is, however, not a performative reader in either of these contexts.

“To be honest, I don’t consider myself much of a reader at all lately. I’ve been working on my novel, and I don’t like reading while I’m in the middle of a writing project because I’m worried it’ll change my signature style.”

A common struggle, surely.

“Sure, I get assigned readings in my literature classes, but those honestly feel more like homework than reading because I enjoy it. But also, I’m not even sure if I do enjoy it anymore. Obviously I like books and literature as a concept, but do I even like to read? Maybe it was something that changed as I grew older, the same way I fell out of love with Taylor Swift and Sour Patch Kids. Reading now is just picking those citric-acid-encrusted gummies out from the back of my retainer with a raw tongue. I was always a bookworm growing up. Does this mean that I’m just a worm now? Would you love me if I was?”

Our Doily Allergen interviewer blushed and told her that they’d have to think about it. They have a lot on their plate right now, and they’re not sure they’re ready for this kind of commitment.

Be on the lookout for chapters of Massey’s upcoming novel Cassidy Firebrand in an upcoming issue of Cave Writing Magazine. They plan to submit it one of these days.

The beloved Iowa City institution Elray’s Live & Dive has fallen to the wayside shortly after instituting a strict “no groping” policy.

In an effort to curb ass-grabbing and other semi-sexual, dubiously-consensual tomfoolery, the tavern announced that it would be banning any form of intersex contact on all three of its dance floors.

Drawing inspiration from Planet Fitness’ Lunk Alarm, any Elray’s staff member who witnesses fondling, hanky panky, or acts of debauchery is now required to set off the newly minted, patent-incoming “Grind Guard.” Once pressed, all lights in the establishment are restored to full brightness, the music is lowered, and the perpetrator will be quickly escorted off the premises.

Shockingly, Elray’s patrons have not been keen on this new policy.

Oliva Martin, a “22”-year-old freshman, shared her frustrations about the new policy: “It’s just like… I’m in my shortest pleather skirt, tallest knee-high boots, and skimpiest going-out top for a reason. I’m not here to leave room for the holy spirit. If I wanted to go somewhere lame, I’d save myself the cover and just go to Hazzards.”

Martin is not alone in her aversion to the new rules. Lines that once snaked down Iowa Avenue have vanished, and the bar’s patronage has plummeted nearly 84% since the Grind Guard’s debut.

“It’s just a real shame. I really found my calling here,” Elray’s bouncer and 5th-year-undergraduate Chad Smith confided to a DA reporter. “Stamping semi-permanent Rorschach inkblots onto the back of drunk teenagers’ hands is kind of, like, the only thing I’m good at.”

Smith, who usually goes through two to three ink pads a night, has been using the same one for the past week.

Sadly, Elray’s Live & Dive was forced to officially close this past weekend after 30 years of service to Iowa City’s finest and least-finest citizens alike. It will be missed by many, remembered fondly by most, and remembered accurately by almost none.

Chad Smith, for his part, has not taken the news well. He was last seen sitting alone at Summit on a Monday, nursing a $4 well vodka red bull, and stamping the back of his own hand. The ink pad, sources confirm, is still going.

Men love to ride their little two-wheel ego boosters around campus, and even more so, they love to act like they’re really good at it. However, due to a recent report from BikeCurious Statistics, 80% of men, just now, and I mean mere moments prior to this very instant, fell off their bike in a truly mortifying and emasculating manner. Don’t let a confident expression fool you. In fact, the more smug the expression on the man’s face, the more recently eating shit on their bike occurred.

Some men challenge this statistic, saying they “walk to class” or “don’t even own a bike”. These claims sound suspiciously like something someone who just ate shit on their bike would say.

Philosophy junior Willy Sholl was, according to BikeCurious, one of the men to most recently crash on his bike on the way to the Hawk Lot. However, Sholl argued that the incident was unobserved by others: “If a man falls off his bike and no one is around to see it, does it make a sound?” Doily interviewers promptly kicked him in the already-scraped shins for being annoying.

We managed to catch footage of sophomore Billiam Bhultz eating mad shit in front of the engineering building. In the post-wipe-out interview, Bhultz stated: “I thought no one saw that.” He then proceeded to forcibly take our camera equipment and destroy the SD card with the footage on it. Bhultz, if you’re reading this, we also recorded it on one of our phones, and we’re not above blackmailing. Please pay us back for the SD card. Please. We’re sorry we kicked your friend Willy.

These days, it seems every little decision the U.S. government makes is criticized relentlessly. Whether they’re taking flak for Epstein files or for starting a new Middle Eastern war just to distract from the Epstein files, it really seems like the Trump administration cannot catch a break anymore.

Thankfully, we found one University of Iowa student willing to take a principled stance in favor of not only the glorious holy war against Iran, but all other wars as well: this guy in your econ class. You know the guy. He’s that one. Maybe there are several of him. Maybe your entire lecture hall is populated by variants of this guy.

Well, we found one of them, one Benjamin “Cassus Belli” Fleshman to talk to about this whole war business. He offered some brilliant insights that we think offer an interesting counterpoint to all the op-eds going around about war being “bad” or something. Below is an excerpt from our interview.

The Doily Allergen: So, what’s your take on war?

Cassus Belli: It’s great. I love it.

DA: Tell us a little more about that.

CB: Well, for one thing, in war you have drones. And drones—not many people know this—drones go zoom. That’s just so fun, don’t you think? They go super fast.

DA: That’s a fascinating argument. Do you have any further supporting evidence?

CB: Yeah, for sure. So, to get a little deeper into the subject: Bombs are also a big deal in war. We’re, like, always hearing about bombs over there, y’know? Well, the fun thing about bombs is they go kaboom.

DA: Describe the significance of that.

CB: It’s a great sound. Just super fucking awesome. I don’t think anyone will disagree with me on that. And it’s not just kaboom—bombs make other sounds too. They go fizz, whoosh, boom, kapow, bang, kablam, and so on. Now, drones carry bombs, of course, so they ultimately make all these fun sounds too, after going zoom. That’s unbeatable.

DA: Sounds like a solid argument. Are there any final thoughts you’d like to share with our readers in the hopes of swaying some of their viewpoints?

CB: I just want to say that, in times like these, you should think of those who really need our attention, our care, and our resources. Right now, I can think of no group of people who more desperately need our support than the United States military. They’re working so hard to make the world fun again, one zippity-pow at a time.