...I know..

Hydrate or die.

Sponsored by Crayola.

ULSA just became the national treasury 😂

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7AvpVRA1PaM

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫

Whether rain or snowfall,
Sunshine greets us with a smile,
Through the day's blazing heat,

Or the chill of the night,
Dusty roads we traverse,
With joy in our hearts, we ride,
Yes, we ride.

Our IMEX trucks roll forward,
Against the traffic flow,
With the engines roaring thunder,
Swift as lightning's glow,
Delivering packages,
We stand strong and true,
Yes, we do.

Through traffic jams and hurdles,
We navigate our way,
To deliver goods and parcels,
Come what may,
Ahead of the competition,
We stand proud and bold,
Yes, we're bold.

Our IMEX trucks roll forward,
Against the traffic flow,
With the engines roaring thunder,
Swift as lightning's glow,
Delivering packages,
We stand strong and true,
Yes, we do.

If challenges obstruct our path,
We find a way around,
With determination and resolve,
Our mission, we overcome,
No obstacle can deter us,
From reaching our goal,
Yes, our goal.

Our IMEX trucks roll forward,
Against the traffic flow,
With the engines roaring thunder,
Swift as lightning's glow,
Delivering packages,
We stand strong and true,
Yes, we do.

And if fate should intervene,
And our journey meets its close,
Know that IMEX's legacy,
In our hearts forever flows,
For each truck a testament,
To the service that we gave,
Yes, we gave.

Our trucks become our fortress,
An honorable, rigid grave,
And in delivering with pride,
IMEX's spirit we engrave,
For every package delivered,
A mark of our resolve,
Yes, we resolve.

So as we bid farewell,
To roads we've traveled brave,
Know that IMEX's journey,
Endures beyond the grave,
For in each delivery,
Our legacy we save,
Yes, we save.

I'm bored AF.

Sign my petition today; Make semi automatic shotguns legal, help prevent elbow arthritis.

Methane Leo
Just a HU!

Sam Fletcher

ULSA's diehard left-wing students want students and faculty to wear red/blue badges on the chest depending on their political leanings so their worth can be determined by looking at them. It's ironic. They claim unity but resort to divisive symbols and want to take after the Third Reich that used badges for control, there's no use for badges, there have always been certain markers to spot around campus; Crazy colored hair, the Che Guevara and Soviet star shirts, and the unmistakable high-pitched voices. That is a left-wing fashion code, and it has been around for years! But now they want 1940s Germany-like conditions set on campus? Wasted 40 minutes of breath trying to explain that to them, but one can't argue with a brick wall...
The year is 2024 - ULSA has undergone a chilling transformation into a place where surveillance is omnipresent, and the right to express one's political views is severely restricted. German Sheppard guard dogs with rainbow-dyed fur patrol the campgrounds on the leash of their equally colorful handlers. The once-vibrant campus is now marked by watchtowers casting long shadows, and tall, rusty barbwire fences, the smell of sulphur and incense hangs so thick that you could almost cut through the air.
Under the pale light of searchlights piercing the dark night skies, the campus takes on an eerie and foreboding atmosphere. The hushed whispers of students echo through the air as they navigate the restricted and heavily guarded spaces, careful not to attract the attention of the oppressive regime. Those with red badges upon their chests find themselves subject to intense scrutiny, their every move monitored.
One blue-eyed kid, with a red badge on his chest stands in line for his daily soybean protein cube in the ULSA diner. The air in the diner is heavy, a mix of tension and the scent of regulated vegan rations. The tables were arranged with military precision, and overhead the low hum of fluorescent lights cast an univiting pallor. The Republican kid with his downcast gaze trots forth with the steady motion of the line, stopping only as he feels the cold metal of a telescopic baton press against his shoulder.
A camp guard (They/Them) looks down at the kid. "You are taking up too much space!" The Republican kid glances around, uncertain, looking most confused. "S-sorry?" He replies. The camp guard squints at him and 'Their' high-pitched voice rings out again "YOUR LEGS! TOO FAR APART! MANSPREADING!" The Republican kid awkwardly adjusts his stance, but it is too late - Suddenly, two imposing figures with striking blue hair and full beards (She/Her) approach with heavy steps. "LOOKS LIKE REEDUCATION WON'T DO THIS ONE MUCH GOOD! COMRADES!" the camp guard screeches, and before the Republican kid can react the two towering women grab him firmly by the arms, their strength surprising for their 'graceful and feminine' frames. The diner falls silent as they drag him out to the old Opel truck out back, its engine idling ominously. They shove him onto the flatbed with the black-on-white iron cross, weathered by the terrors of war, from the Blitzkrieg invasion of Poland to the bitter, harsh battles of Stalingrad. This solemn symbol, aged and worn, having not seen the light of day for 79 years, patiently biding its time in a Soviet warehouse, and now, in a picturesque revival, the iron cross is now resting under the crescent of a fresh, colorful rainbow, as if the symbol after years of silence, is once more happy to be of use, once more able to serve its purpose under new masters.