Donating a body to science has never tasted so good.
On this week's horrifying front page of Wisconsin Week, med students pick apart a piece of a human cadaver on a dormitory cafeteria tray! Yes, a cafeteria tray! Something you may have sledded down Bascom Hill on or, God forbid, eaten off of at some point!
To the careless or illiterate reader, the picture on the front page may seem benign. Perhaps a study of cafeteria taco meat is underway. Perhaps these studious med students do not have time for a proper lunch and must share a pork roast between experiments, still clad in lab coats and latex gloves and using their sterile instruments as eating utensils.
However, a careful scanning of the caption below the photo yields the damning words, "study the pelvic section of a human cadaver." When we combine this information with the unflinching eye of the camera, we as the audience must conclude that there is indeed a human pelvis... atop a cafeteria tray.
Yeah, they probably don't go back into circulation once a human pelvis has touched them, but on the rare occasion I pick up Wisconsin Week, images of campus life incredibly laden with cannibalistic overtones tend to catch me offguard.
So now when Creepy McPremed on 2A of Witte is walking back to his dorm room with a funny lump under his shirt, you know he's not building snowshoes. You've been warned.
To the careless or illiterate reader, the picture on the front page may seem benign. Perhaps a study of cafeteria taco meat is underway. Perhaps these studious med students do not have time for a proper lunch and must share a pork roast between experiments, still clad in lab coats and latex gloves and using their sterile instruments as eating utensils.
However, a careful scanning of the caption below the photo yields the damning words, "study the pelvic section of a human cadaver." When we combine this information with the unflinching eye of the camera, we as the audience must conclude that there is indeed a human pelvis... atop a cafeteria tray.
Yeah, they probably don't go back into circulation once a human pelvis has touched them, but on the rare occasion I pick up Wisconsin Week, images of campus life incredibly laden with cannibalistic overtones tend to catch me offguard.
So now when Creepy McPremed on 2A of Witte is walking back to his dorm room with a funny lump under his shirt, you know he's not building snowshoes. You've been warned.

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