It is no secret that we English Quebecers feel a certain disconnect with our own province. This disconnect explains why we turn the television off when Jean Charest or Pauline Marois come on and why we choose any activity over heading to a ballot box.

In fact, one person I spoke to who had deleted his profile described how a Facebook group was set up in his honour asking whether he was dead or not because, obviously, life can’t go on without Facebook. Or can it?

It’s difficult to define our age group by a couple of sentences—especially when most of us are meandering young adults just starting to discover who we really are. But, undeniably, there are a few distinct things about our generation that makes us, well, us.

But because frosh week targets such a specific group of students, it ends up alienating other groups. And school spirit, which should exist all year round, becomes a manufactured byproduct of frosh—a product with a short shelf life.

As I walk around our great city, I can’t help but notice a trend: cyclists are douchebags. Now I do realize that there are many cyclists out there who are nice people, but the majority of them are assholes.

But apart from all the grammar help, the Fulcrum has taught me valuable lessons that can’t be learned in a classroom.

How Twitter defined norovirus outbreak ON JAN. 11, the Fulcrum editorial board and a group of its staff and volunteers set out for a national student journalism conference in Victoria, B.C. By Jan. 14, a large portion of our delegation fell ill with what turned out to be a small-scale outbreak of a highly contagious …

Two students sound off on the facial hair-focused campaign It’s time for men to throw out their razors and women to start constructing felt ‘staches. That’s right—it’s Movember again, which means moustaches for all! Currently in its fourth year as a formal Canadian charity campaign, Movember has thousands of men across the country growing their …

Sites push subway voyeurism to an all-time low   GENTLEMEN, I WOULD like you to picture something for me. Imagine you are sitting on the subway, having a coffee and playing Angry Birds when, unbeknownst to you, a mysterious figure snaps your picture and sends it to a website where your looks are judged and …

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