Earlier last week, Mayfest officials released a map outlining the grounds for Dillo Day 2017, an annual slopfest filled with debauchery, alcohol poisoning, and good old-fashioned American fun. The spectacular release of this map was met with much excitement, but it left one to wonder: losers and nerds aside, who cares about a stupid map?

The more I pondered this question, the more sinister my thoughts became. How does a completely student-run organization acquire the power and sway to book high-demand artists like Chance the Rapper and whatever alternative trash theater kids listen to? Whatever did happen to the Mayfest exec board during the mutiny of ’15 that left two dead and seven missing? Then it hit me. This map was no perimeter for moral degradation and clinical diseases: it was a guide to discovering the hidden truths of Dillo—and human flesh.

After employing several well-renowned techniques (black light, Fibonacci sequence, coating it in lemon juice and placing it in the oven like in National Treasure), I was no closer to discovering the truth hidden within this map. It was taunting me, like the check-out boy at Whole Foods who sold me the lemon juice and “has a girlfriend.”

Like the infamous serial killers before them, such as Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, and Ted Cruz, the Mayfest Maulers (as I will now refer to them) are desperate to get caught. This teasing is their high, and they will watch with pleasure as students dry hump to the latest alternative banger on soil fertilized with spilled mimosas and their latest victims.

While some may turn a blind eye to what must be an elaborate system of life insurance policies and mysterious beneficiaries, those of us who are cultured and have also seen Double Indemnity know the truth. Be careful where you step on Dillo this year—Gramatik’s contract may have been signed with the blood of Becky from Spanish class.