The 2016 Slaughterhouse Island massacre is second only to obscene data overages caused by Snapchat as a parent’s worst nightmare.

By Andrew J. Pridgen

The internets grew a new tail Tuesday from posted pictures of a University of Oregon outdoor school field trip turned deadly orgy of careless bottled water discarding on a spit of land called—ready—fucking Slaughterhouse Island at Lake Shasta: home to the most floating meth labs per capita in Northern California.

Park rangers out for their usual Sunday patrol searching for dime bags thrown into the woods, Tommy Bahama lawn chairs with the back kangaroo pocket still intact and unopened 48 packs of Kirkland Signature Light, stumbled on what could aptly be described as the worst scene of post-party carnage since Jonestown.

More than 90 tents, coolers still full of food (if you call Hot Pockets that were cooked by kerosene-fueled campfire food), sleeping bags and, presumably, my Beast Man action figure that my mom said got lost in the wash in 1986 were left behind.

But no signs of the students. None.

According to one news report, “The perps were nowhere to be seen.”

Um, yeah. Because they’re all fucking dead.

How do I know there was a mass killing in the lake that has sidestepped the drought by being filled with 80 percent spilled jet ski fuel? Well—as a U of O alum and one who was lucky enough to visit the red clay shores framing the heart of Shasta County as an undergrad, I happen to have some decent insight as to what really happened.

And it’s not pretty.

Let’s look at some of the (NSFW) evidence:


Notice how these tents are left WIDE open. This can only mean the victims were dragged out of their tents in the middle of the night, taken somewhere near Silverthorn marina on a 2001 MasterCraft with a fucking sick tower and executed by means of beer bonging and listening to DMX over and fucking over—then disposed of in the deepest (eight feet—just under the bridge) part of the lake.


See how neatly all the stuff is gathered and stacked for departure? Clearly these undergrads were about to be rescued by a pair of friendly Redding locals tooling around on one of those double paddle-wheel boat thingeys popping Prilosec OTC like they were handfuls of Nerds and dragging a floating keg of Natty Light. In this instance, the murderer (or murderers) came from out of the woods and choked out the unsuspecting scholars by stuffing several thawed out Gardenburger patties and moldy blueberry muffins down their throats.


The notorious white chair. Rumor has it that a Giant Sasquatch (registered today on the FBI blacklist as G.S.) passed out on this exact chair for three days straight in the spring of 1996—20 years ago to the weekend of the massacre—and was never seen again at Lake Shasta, Lane College, or the Hunky Dory where he was an intern. The legend goes that he’s been forced over the last two decades to live off leftover giant bags of pretzels and chicken that goes bad because some asshole left it on the fucking counter overnight…and, of course, the flesh of co-eds in Old Navy jorts and bikini tops who use Axe body spray to mask four days of swimming in farty pisswater. He also has no Wi-Fi out there most of the time unless he can locate some chick’s phone that she thought she dropped in the lake but really it slipped out of her board shorts pocket when she was taking a sneaky dump in the nearby underbrush.

Oregon vice president for student life Robin Holmes said the Lambda Chi Alpha fraternity which housed of most of the victims will be suspended indefinitely, adding the human loss sustained is nothing compared to the manner in which the forest was left: “(It) was absolutely unacceptable and disgraceful,” she said.


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