Articles by Riley Sparks
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Too Quick To Crucify
It took almost no time for Montreal’s anti-police activists to make cheap politics of the tragic Jan. 6 police shooting of Farshad Mohammadi.
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Hey BoG, You Want to Talk About Contempt?
I slept in and missed last Thursday’s Board of Governors meeting. But the meetings have become more formulaic than House, and I didn’t need to actually sit through another episode to know how this mess would play out.
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Nah’msayin?
Roaches Run Rampant
Next time you’re on the platform in Guy-Concordia Metro, look closely at the floor next to the walls. You can’t un-see it. A teeming mass of horrible little legs and antennae. Hundreds of cockroaches, some of them the size of beagles.
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Rationing Representation
SGM Strike Vote Excludes Students
Since the recent Board of Governors bloodbath, it’s pretty clear that the Concordia administration doesn’t represent us—but as it turns out, neither does our student union. Well, at least not all of us.
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Nah’msayin?
Accosted On Guy
So I was walking from the Hall to the EV building the other day, going to class, just thinking about how broke and awesome I am, and in that not-even two blocks, I had to awkwardly fend off the weird, too-friendly advances of, I swear, like, 20 people.
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Don’t Tell Your Mom
This is probably very dangerous
Think back to when you were 14, and to that little voice in your head that said, “Don’t worry, man. You can totally jump that.” Now imagine that voice grew up, saved some cash and went pro.
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News Commentary: Mad as Hell
And We’re Not Going to Take It Anymore
Ah, springtime in Montreal. That wonderful time of year when the sun starts to shine, the terrasses fill with cheerful, buzzed students and the subtle smell of tear gas wafts through the streets. It’s protest season. This summer, we’ve got a whole lot to protest about
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Sheep in Wolves’ Clothing
Bad Cops, Good People
After approximately five hours of shooting at the last big protest I covered for The Link, I walked away with a few hundred pretty decent photos, a bruised nose and a couple riot baton-shaped lumps that stayed on my ribs longer than that week’s issue of the paper was on the stands.