The Origin Of Libel And Slander

Flash forward 24 years later (because that’s the second oldest issue I could find) and flip to page two in Issue 5. Though the articles were still somehow less structurally sound than the articles today, we begin to see what appears to be proto-Humor articles. Appearing more abundantly and with more journalistic standards, Humor articles were better received. Like the founders had intended, the Humor department gained The Spectator an even larger amount of clout. Some articles were funny and light-hearted, yet they told actual news such as getting the school an incinerator. It was a fresh new take on journalism, and one that ended the monotonous, traditional standards.

Now that humorous articles were helping The Spectator expand its readership, what went wrong? How could such a reputable department be reduced to one that fabricates stories? When The Defecator was published on April 1, 1998, despite being the most honest Spectator issue to date, dozens of faculty members were outraged by the various exposés and student opinions. This shut down The Spectator for quite a long time, and a bunch of people farming The Spectator for their college apps suddenly had their ambitions come crashing down.

Well, that was until May 5 of that same year when The Spectator was allowed to be published again. Knowing the severe consequences that could follow, it was decided that it would be for the best if Humor articles were not published. Thus followed a long and dark time period of bland articles that no one had the patience to read.

Then in the 2011-2012 school year, something momentous occurred: the introduction of a Humor department in The Spectator. For the first time in possibly 13 years, The Spectator published more eccentric news—at least they were allowed to, but no one bothered to for, like, two years.

Suddenly, in 2014, the absolute madlads Jeremy Karson, Robert Melamed, Ethan Schwar, Shane Lorenzen, and Mr. Tillman decided to publish a Humor section in The Spectator. It was absolutely huge; the editorial board at the time was having seizures because of the freshness of the Humor section. Unique journalism was poured everywhere on the two pages of the section, and a few editors fainted at the sight of such a divine publication. Needing to conceal such raw, explosive power of the section, the EICs at the time, Edric Huang and David Cahn, immediately ordered that the Humor section have a box at the top of the first page saying, “These articles are works of fiction. All quotes are libel and slander.”

“It was absolutely necessary,” Huang said. “By making the section appear as fake news, we saved thousands of lives from being over-euphoric.”

“The world just isn’t ready to see such valid news,” Cahn added. “So we had to put it for the safety of everyone. Also, how’d you find our e-mails, that’s kinda weird, dude.”

With that fateful decision, the Humor department quickly garnered a reputation as that one department that publishes fake news as a job. This influenced the Humor department in so many ways that it affects us to this very day.

Now that this is the conclusion of my very intensive research paper of the topic of Libel and Slander, what can we, as a group of people who live in a society, learn? The Libel and Slander phrase is in itself libel and slander. The Humor department does indeed publish genuine news, but we’re so potent that we need to be limited so that other departments can compete with us. It’s also there so that people with low IQs, *cough cough* people who don’t watch Rick and Morty *cough cough*, can comprehend our paper a bit more easily. Thank you for wasting your brain cells on this, and for reading what is possibly my longest article to date!