Every morning for the past month, John Fecalman, chair of the Scatology department, has opened his mailbox with anticipation for the yellow- tinted envelope enclosing the Scatology department’s invitation to the annual Scholars Spring Social event. Yet, every morning he closes the tiny door with disappointment and shifts between the cattle roaming Merde Hall.
For the eighth year in a row, the rest of the faculty has gone to great lengths to exclude the Scatology department from staff events. The email to Fecalman gave the wrong date for the Faculty Senate meeting, and when he arrived, there was conveniently a seat missing.
“I want to turn the other cheek, but there’s something fishy going on here,” declared Fecalman.
“Of course we would never go out of our way to exclude distinguished individuals in their respective fields,” Chancellor David Ward said, “But that said, they smell. Really awful. I imagine it’s something like the rutty jutters of jolly old England before they bothered to shovel the crap from the horses and peasantry elsewhere.”
According to Fecalman, the rift began eight years ago when the Scatology department confused the faculty potluck with the faculty science fair.
“Without going into much detail, some people mistook our samples for fudge-bottom pie... Things just haven’t been the same since,” he recalled.
Fecalman defended the importance of the department by noting their numerous distinctions, such as their recent number one ranking in the field by U.S. News and World Report.
“Of course they’re number one,” said Ward. “They’re the only Scatology department in the nation! No one else gives a shit.”
