Two Montreal ravers slashed the tires of a dozen cars parked on Des Pins avenue yesterday night, convinced that cutting rubber was the key to social revolution.

"We need to start over, to wipe away the existing political order and create something entirely new." said Tom D., one of tire thrashing protesters. "I now realize that the only way we're ever going to free ourselves from our political oppressors, from those who rule over us, is if we knife a bunch of parked cars. People need to wake up to the fact that they're slaves to the rich, and that will only happen once all their cars have shredded tires."

David G., Tom's comrade in arms, agreed. "Voting doesn't change anything, but stabbing a rubber wheel with a seven inch blade? That's political reform. Everyone is so complacent, so ready to follow our political leaders off a cliff."

The two vandals told Rave News that they won't stop with slahsing tires. Tom and Dave are ambitious young men with an eye on the future. "Tires are just the beginning. We're not stupid. We realize that eventually, we'll have to branch out. That's why Tom's starting a drum circle, while I plan on smashing windows in addition to slashing tires. We call it the Tire, Window, Drums three path plan to future prosperity. Slash tires, smash windows, beat on drums. That's how we're going to change the world, man. It's going to be epic."

Tom and Dave's plan for political reform isn't without its detractors. Elaine, a high school friend of the pair, was less than impressed with what the two have been doing. "Ever since those guys took that intro to politics course at Concordia, they think they have all the answers. They don't. No one's going to change the world by destroying private property or by banging on drums. There's only one path to meaningful political reform, and that's by arguing with strangers over the internet."

The raving vandals shrug off critics like Elaine. "That's, like, just her opinion man," said David. "History will show that we know what we're doing. One day, people will erect statues of us."

Within seconds of puking all over herself, Jennifer Lambert hugged her boyfriend Keith Escovitz at a Lasalle party on Friday night.

"I knew Jen couldn't handle her liquor, but I didn't know she was the type of girl who would hug a person while covered in her own bile." reports Karl Nassier, a witness to the night's events.

"Her boyfriend was furious with her. He was wearing a new Ed Hardy shirt, and he was really angry that she ruined it. She started bawling her eyes out, and that just made him angrier. He kept yelling that she had wrecked his style and how he'd have to throw his shirt away, because now it would always remind him of vomit. After a few minutes, he told her to get out of his face."

When her boyfriend told her to leave, Jen scoured the party looking for someone who could offer her some semblance of comfort.

"She didn't realize that no one wanted to be around her so long as she was covered in vomit. She'd go up to random people, folks she'd never met before, and she'd complain about what an asshole her boyfriend was, completely indifferent to the fact that she was covered in puke. It was everywhere -- on her skirt, splattered across her sweater, dripping down her neck, dribbling down her chin. She even had some in her hair. "

After getting the cold shoulder from several party goers, Jennifer decided to hit the dance floor, however on her way there she tripped, fell on her face, and passed out. Her boyfriend wound up taking her back home, and broke up with her the next day. It was the worst hangover she ever had.

"Jen's mortified about what she did. She's been in hiding ever since it happened."

Pictures of her covered in puke surfaced on facebook shortly after the humiliating events of Friday night. Jennifer has since closed all of her social profiles.

A violent fist fight broke out yesterday between two rave promoters that live together. The bickering duo got into a disagreement over the cleanliness of the apartment they share. One promoter is a neatfreak while the other promoter is a vile slob.

It's a miracle the two even live together considering their differences, but circumstances have conspired to bring both of them under a single roof. It hasn't been an easy pairing. The apartment was first leased by the dirty raver nearly a decade ago, and under his stewardship, the once beautiful downtown 5 1/2 has become a cess pool of filth and grime.

After visiting the place for the first time, Jessica Adams, one of the neatfreak's girlfriends, told him she'd never return to his apartment so long as it looked like a drug den popular frequented by heroin addicts and crack whores.

"His place is a dump." reports Jessica.

"The washroom is covered in a layer of brown slime. During a typical week, over a hundred people will visit his apartment, and he rarely has toilet paper. I'm pretty sure people just wipe their hands on the wall after they let one drop, because that's the only way I can explain the brown specks that adorn the walls of his apartment.

The place has a wood floor and it's falling apart. There are paint stains everywhere, and I'm pretty sure most of the boards are toxic. Before my boyfriend moved in, a meth cooked shared the apartment with that dirty ass raver. No one ever bothered to clean up. You'd probably get high just spending half an hour in that shit hole. And I won't tell you about the kitchen. Eww."

When the neatfreak realized his nasty flat was jeopardizing his ability to get laid, he decided to hire a cleaning crew to fix the place up. Unfortunately, the slob promoter is possessive of his filth, and like one of the dysfunctional characters from the tv show Hoarders, he had a nervous breakdown when he found out that people were coming over to bring order to his chaotic living space.

He flipped out, started yelling like a mad man, and in the heat of the moment, he punched his poon hungry roommate. A fiery night of fisticuffs followed that first punch, and only ended when the neatfreak packed a bag and got a hotel room. He's couch-surfing until he finds a new place, and is no longer on speaking terms with his messy former flatmate.

Police arrested a 28 year old Montreal party gover over the weekend after they found him running down a Verdun street completely naked. Friends of the nude runner tell us that the man woke up in the buff on the roof of a nearby McDonald on Saturday morning, completely obvlious to how he got there, and utterly freaked out over the situation he found himself in.

"He told us he had the worse hangover in his life. He was petrified to find himself completely exposed, his clothing was nowhere to be found, and he had no idea how he was going to get out of his predicament. Worst of all? The only way off the roof that didn't involve him breaking his leg, involved him climbing down a tree that was right next to a very busy patio full of people scarfing down burgers."

Scared witless, our wrecked roof-top raver spent most of the day mustering up the courage to climb down. It would be hours before the crowds would thin out, when finally, after roasting in the sun for what seemed like an eternity, there was a brief lull in business at the McDonald's.

"At some point, the crowds vanished, so he took his chance, climbed down the tree, and ran like the wind, his dick waiving in the breeze. And apparently, climbing down a pine tree naked isn't much fun."

His bad luck didn't get improve once he was finally down. Within minutes of his descent, a police car spotted his naked and badly sunburnt arse skulking its way across the bushes that lined the street. The officers pulled over and arrested our luckless raver for public indecency.

He never discovered how he wound up naked on that roof, and his clothing have yet to be found. He'll likely have to do community service, though his friends think his ordeal was punishment enough.

"He told his how this was the last time he was ever going to get drunk, that he was giving up on alcohol, but he always says that. He'll screw up again. He always does. But he shouldn't suffer more than he already has. The only person his naked roof-top adventure hurt was himself, and it'd be wrong for the government to add to his problems. Anything more than court mandated therapy would be overkill. "

A Ghostbuster fan and longtime raver was arrested outside a Kentucky Fried Chicken over the weekend after someone mistook him for a gun wielding psychopath. The raver in question, a 35 year old psytrance freak and cult 80s movie enthusiast, was dressed up in an authentic Ghostbuster outfit he had purchased off eBay. The outfit included a replica of the proton gun that the characters of the 1984 classic use to capture ghosts. This was not out of the norm for our geeky raver -- he is a dedicated cosplayer who spends most of his freetime dressing up as movie characters, cartoon characters, anime characters, and videogame characters. He's a role-play addict who has won several awards for his colorful and professional grade costumes.

Unfortunately for our nerdy comrade, while he was trekking down the sidewalk in pursuit of a bucket of delicious fried chicken, a passerby saw him and confused his plastic proton gun for a real weapon. The police were called, and a nearby cruiser was on the scene within minutes. Just as our ghostbusting raver was about to satisfy his passion for poultry, he found himself the subject of a police assault. He heard someone shout at him, turned around, and found two officers, guns drawn, yelling at him to put down his weapon.

At first he was confused and didn't realize that he was their target. It took him a few seconds and a few more shouts from the officers to realize what was going on. He tried to tell the cops that he wasn't armed and that his gun was just a toy, but they kept repeating their demands. The more he tried to talk to the officers, the angrier they became. Eventually, a crowd started to form, and our raver gave up any hope of getting through to the police. He put down his proton pack and was quickly tackled to the ground, cuffed, and thrown into the back of their car.

Eventually the officers realized they had over-reacted, but it would be hours before our raver was free again. During the fracas the police managed to break his proton gun, and even though they were clearly in the wrong, they decided to charge him with public endagerment and disorderly conduct. It was only after he lawyered up and threatened to involve the news media that charges against him were dropped. The police, however, refuse to pay for his broken replica proton gun. He's bitter about what happened, but doesn't think suing the police would be worth the time or effort.

Underground party promoters are grappling with a gang of groady graffiti artists who have been terrorizing their outdoor events this summer. The trouble all started when the promoters threw a party under a bridge that they didn't know was frequented by the tagging and bombing crowd. When the spraypaint mafia made their usual rounds to get their art on, they were dismayed to find their cherished bridge swarming with pacifier sucking ravers.

Witnesses say that a group of five noticably intoxicated graffiti artists swaggered into the party, started yelling at random dancers before one of their crew zeroed in on a dancing female party goer. One raver, Jeremy Paval, gave us a detailed account of what he saw.

"This girl was just dancing to some happy hardcore when one of the guys walked over to her, pushed her on to the ground, and kicked her right in the face. She was bleeding everywhere. After that, a half dozen of us start running towards the guy who attacked her, and his friends join in, and suddenly it's this huge brawl. I didn't take part in the fight, but I followed the action. We managed to chase them out of the party, which is when it got weird.

There's a field not too far from the bridge, which is where the five graffiti guys went. Not all at once though -- four of the thugs were a good fifty feet ahead of the one who kicked that girl in the head. When that guy finally met up with his four friends, they immediately jumped him, and yanked down his pants. It looked like they were about to rape him up the ass. When his knickers were around his ankles, one of his four attackers yelled out 'What are we doing?! That's my brother, man!'. The guy that was about to be buggered pulled up his underwear, got his pants back on, and the five of them started running again. It was weird."

That was the first party the graffiti artists crashed, but they've been harassing the promoters ever since. One of them, who refuses to be named, told us it wasn't a big deal.

"Yeah, they showed up at a few of our parties, trying to stir trouble, but nothing as bad as what happened the first time. We've beefed up our security for all our outdoor parties. Everyone's making a big deal out of nothing. "

Some ravers remain unconvinced. "They say were safe, but are we really? Who knows when those graffiti guys are going to attack again. Next time, it might be me they kick in the face, it might be you. Until they're in jail, we'll never be able to party in peace."

Right wing firebrand and evangelical preacher Jeoffrey Dizon made headlines this weekend after delivering a fiery sermon on the sins of raving to his congregation in Red Dear, Alberta. In a fit of pique, the colourful preacher told his flock that ravers are a threat to all things holy, and then suggested that Canada would be better off if the police would round them up and place them in concentration camps. News of his calls for raver camps leaked out to the press, and a firestorm followed.

"Raving leads to sodomy. It leads to debauchery. It leads to sin and it leads to sorrow. If we don't put a stop to it, countless souls will be lost to heaven. It might seem heavy handed to imprison ravers, but we have to quarantine them or their decadent dancing disease will spread, causing countless more people to fall into perdition. A few years in a camp dedicated to prayer and Godliness is a small price to pay in order to protect people from an eternity in the bowels of hell." said Dizon when contacted by Rave News.

His congregation of middle aged hicks were glowing in their praise for their controversial preacher. One man, who refused to give a name, recounted a story about how he lost his son to raving.

"He was a hard working student. He got straight As, did his homework, he was a loving son who went to church every Sunday. Then one day, he sneaked out and went to this rave over in Edmonton. Now he spends his nights fellating strangers in bath houses and giving handjobs to homeless people. The only time we see him is when he needs to borrow money, which we never give him, because we know he'll just spend it on crystal meth. Raving destroyed our son. It turned him into a drug addled buggerer and fellater of men. A pox on partying. Dizon is right. I failed to put the love of God in my kid, and now he's just full of the sins of man. If we had raver camps, I'd send my boy to one of them in a heartbeat."

Needless to say, not everyone has been so receptive of Dizon's sermon. One Red Dear citizen, Emily Mason, was outspoken in her criticism of the small town preacher. "Everyone has a right to party. We live in a free country, and if I want to go to a rave and snort cocaine off my friend's chest while pumping my fist in the air to an awesome Skrillex remix, I should be allowed to. Dizon's a fascist."

Some party goers were more open to Dizon's idea, like Ashton Duchene, a 19 year old raver from Calgary. "A camp for ravers? If the DJ line up was off the hook, I'd go." When he was informed that there'd be no music, just bibles, he shrugged his shoulders and laughed. "Where there's ravers, there's music. No exception. If they tried to silence us, we'd just find a way to turn the bibles into turntable, and then we'd spin some righteous beats. God is a DJ, and he loves dubstep."