Super Double Top Secret Report Opened

A Satirical Romp Through Institutional Absurdity

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I got my super double top-secret report on my “investigation” a month ago, so I’ve decided to discuss it on Substack. Sue me. It’s satire.

So welcome to the circus - where the University of Guelph-Humber plays ringmaster to a farce so absurd it could only be scripted by a committee of bureaucrats drunk on their sanctimony. Our hero, Paul Finlayson, a marketing lecturer who dared to brandish the sword of free speech, now finds himself skewered by the fine folks staring as paid investigators for management - two Sherrard Kuzz LLP lawyers —rechristened “Sentence First - Verdict Afterwards LLP” for their literary panache (Alice in Wonderland), or perhaps “Superbent Investigation Services” for their Olympic-level contortions of reality.

Buckle up, have another Scotch, or smoke a blunt if that’s your thing; it will make this story more coherent.

Only in the perverse liturgy of bureaucratic pseudo-justice can a report devoid of evidence, shrouded in anonymity, and soaked in hearsay¹ arrive festooned with warnings more severe than a nuclear launch code—do not share, do not forward, do not think impure thoughts about it. One half expects a Vatican seal and a threat of excommunication. Truly, it is the first document in history to be more classified than it is credible. They did not specifically say, ‘Don’t ridicule it on Substack, ’ so I think I am good.

So this report landed—anonymous accusers, zero evidence, not a shred or sliver. Just random redactions everywhere, as if a toddler on a sugar high had got hold of the black Sharpie during arts and crafts. It was thoughtfully compiled by “Predetermined Investigation Services LLP,” whose motto might as well be: We arrive biased, so you don’t have to. Jordan Peterson’s lawyer, Howard Levitt, warned me - he called external investigators firing squads. Bang.

The big reveal? Finlayson was declared guilty—brace yourselves—of talking to two girls. The horror. He still has no idea what this means. Was Finlayson secretly included in a gender exclusivity communication program? But aren’t there 155 genders? Shouldn’t the inquisitor have said cis-females? So confusing.

Allegedly, he told them not to report him for offending the delicate emotional ecosystem of Hamas. Yes, that Hamas. The genocidal fraternity with a flair for slaughter and a track record for killing teenagers before breakfast. Those keffiyah ‘Allahu Akba’ dockeys bruise easily when one calls them Nazis. Go figure.

Strangely, these “girls” may not exist, which makes it awkward that he supposedly told them not to report him for speaking. That’s right: he allegedly begged imaginary people not to grass him out so he wouldn’t get suspended… while already suspended. A double suspension. I think that happened in the movie Animal House, but it was rare bird.

A bit like locking the barn door after the prize cow escaped, joined a biker gang, and got flattened by a Walmart truck during a joyride along the 401.

As for the other “charges”? Well, there’s the heinous crime of posting a response on LinkedIn. It went to one person.

Then there’s the surreal episode in which a student phoned Finlayson and droned on like a malfunctioning chatbot trapped in a feedback loop—ten minutes of verbal porridge with the intellectual clarity of a dial tone. Nothing urgent, nothing coherent, nothing even memorable. Finlayson didn’t recall the conversation—not because he’s evasive, but because, like most sentient adults, he doesn’t commit every dull exchange to memory.

Even the student admitted Finlayson had said nothing threatening. But in the Kafkaesque theme park of academic bureaucracy, this non-event was reclassified as a “credible threat” because another professor, WR, claimed to have heard about it from someone else, somewhere, somehow.

The investigator—clearly recruited from the shallow end of the logic or the integrity pool—confused hearsay with divine revelation and decided that rumour now outranked testimony. It seems truth was less important than mood, and due process less binding than vibes.

Finlayson’s real transgression? Daring to ask staff to stop peddling bollocks about him being a racist because he had deemed a terrorist group that roasts families alive “Nazis.” No, he hadn’t been arrested for assault either, though facts never stood in the way of an administrative lynching.

But he wanted to apologise for shooting JFK. He said he had been buried in the grassy knoll and had good camo. He wasn’t born yet, but he assumed no one in authority would bother to check. If you are guilty, you are guilty no matter what. Welcome to University justice.

“Details?” They’re as rare as a lawyer’s soul — theoretically there, but no one’s seen it, and it sure doesn’t show up in court. Yet Superbent’s crack squad ruled this a capital offence, right up there with Finlayson’s LinkedIn response post calling Hamas Nazis.

Was the outrage over Nazis being slandered as Hamas or Hamas as Nazis? No old German wearing his best Hugo Boss SS get-up has been at his door screaming ‘arbeit macht frei’, so he assumed the latter.

Nobody knows details, least of all Inquisitor #1. Their investigative spirit? About as convincing as the pastor’s daughter’s Sunday smile — the same one she wears right before skipping youth group to go smoke weed behind the Dairy Queen with two ex-boyfriends and her philosophy professor.

Meanwhile, Finlayson’s post was deemed to have poisoned the workplace—not in the post-Taco Bell bathroom broken fan sense, but in that peculiar academic alchemy where words become war crimes. It went to one student, an embittered child who Finlayson had taught, and a confessed “A” student (in the new university, all students are “A“students) who was angry for not getting a top grade for inferior work. The student then took responsibility for spreading it onward herself.

But let’s not forget Sherrard Kuzz’s latest innovation: their punch card loyalty program.

Universities can pay external investigators for nine guilty verdicts; the tenth comes free! It’s like a coffee shop deal, but you get a career-destroying report instead of a latte. For the tech-savvy, there’s an app with a spinning wheel where clients can win a custom document with any combination of person, time, what was said, when, how, or why scrubbed clean.

Guelph-Humber hit the jackpot in Finlayson’s case, scoring a report with all particulars erased—Winner: Gagnant, as the lottery terminals at Vaughan’s Esso chirp, dutifully translated into French for the one francophone in town.

Now, meet WR, the untouchable star of this inverted Hogarthian morality circus. His social media is a shrine to every Iranian proxy—Hamas, Hezbollah, Houthis—punctuated by October 7 posts cheering massacres, calling Jews subhuman filth, accusing them of being Nazis, of starving four million Ukrainians to death, and asserting there are no tunnels in Gaza, while accusing Israel of shooting hostages to save a shekel.

WR’s call to an anti-Zionist group with 3.2 million followers, baying for Finlayson’s termination, was just a warm-up. Yet Predetermined Investigation Services—sorry, We Knew You Were Guilty the Minute We Saw Your Face LLP gave him a pat on the back and a free pass—no 17-month defamation campaign for WR, no, sir. Nothing, advance to go. But I think he is still waiting for the $200.