Why it sucks: If I had to guess the content of this speech based solely on the title, I’d assume Abraham Lincoln gave a reading of the Gettysburg, PA phonebook.
New title: Continue reading
In 1776, one country dawned in a time of great uncertainty. The Communists hated the freedoms of this new nation conceived in liberty; the Canadians – the Canadians! – would soon go on to defeat this new country in war (twice); the leader of this republic, George Washington, was battling dentures, a vicious, dirty campaign from Frank Underwood (spoiler alert, sorry), and the Germans on the Western Front. But from all of this emerged a beautiful, proud nation. A nation that celebrated its leaders.
Yes, Northwestern University Administration, I am talking about America. And yes, Northwestern University Administration, this nation – OUR nation – beat the odds. From those dark times emerged Continue reading
Aren’t we all sick of the typical “Study Abroad Blog”? I mean, it’s #amazing and #lifechanging that you saw the “Le Tour Eiffel” and drank wine in Sicily and went to that weird building in Barcelona. You got a picture with a camel and underprivileged children? That’s really amazing!
I’ve never seen anything quite like it! For the past 6 minutes, that is.
So, just a warning, if you are abroad, I speak for most everyone–no one reads your blog aside from your extended family. If you’re lucky, maybe your mother leaves it open for your cat to take naps next to. But that’s it.
Let’s be real, the only blog people would really want to read would be about sexcapades. We don’t want to hear about how you went to a coffee shop in Amsterdam; we want to hear about how you made your cash in the red light district to pay for said coffee shop.
While you’re abroad, as long as you act the 100% opposite of a Northwestern student (aka never step foot in the library and make eye contact with, well, anyone,) then you’re guaranteed to meet some incredible people who will change your outlook on life (#clicheforareason). That being said, these people will likely fall into certain categories, and this is taking a moment to dwell on all of the wonderful men in your life, the ones who won’t quite make the blog. Continue reading
In the summer of 1962, a young man named Willie walks out of a liquor store carrying two cases of Bud Light and a handle of Congress vodka. He struggles under the weight of his purchases, lumbering uneasily toward a purple and white Chevy Impala parked 30 feet from the clear glass doors.
After depositing his booze in the trunk, being sure to bring five cans of beer up to the front seat with him, he slides the key into the ignition. The engine sputters for a moment and then roars to life. Willie wastes no time in speeding out into the cool night air, shotgunning a can of beer all the while.
Unless you owe somebody $18 billion, you have more money than the city of Detroit.
Detroit recently announced that it is declaring Chapter 9 bankruptcy, because, in Detroit, the best and most proven way to solve a problem is to give up. The tragicomedy of the situation, of course, is that it couldn’t even succeed in declaring itself a failure; in essence, even having no money is too much money for Detroit to be able to handle. While there are multiple reasons (a shrinking population, too many public sector employees, this guy named Kwame Kilpatrick, etc.) why Detroit is in the situation it’s in now, those are too hard to understand; and if college has taught me anything, it’s that the best way to declare yourself an expert on a subject is to be really loud, vocal, and domineering about that subject while doing as little research as possible, because, as everyone age 16-28 knows, intelligence is directly proportional to the amount of Facebook posts you have about Egypt.
Squatty potties decided the Cold War.
Khrushchev didn’t come to an agreement with Kennedy because he wanted to avoid a nuclear apocalypse; he phoned in the Cuban Missile Crisis in because he really didn’t want to negotiate with JFK while using one of the Politburo’s standing-room-only toilets. Gorbachev didn’t tear down the wall and end the Communist era because Reagan said so; he simply was tired of taking a shit standing up.
It was the night of the 16th, Decembah of 1773. The tea ship Dahtmouth had arrived in Boston Hahbah, but had yet to unlahd and pay its duties. We was all in one wicked pissah of a mood. It was like da Broons had just lahst the Cup or something.
So anyways, Guvna Hutchison was a total dick of a chowdahead, and wudn’t let us send the fukin’ ship and tea back to Englahnd, which was total frickin’ gahbidge. So me and about foddy friends of mine from my Hahvid days who called ahselves the Sons of Liberty decide to have us a meeting. And wouldn’t you know it, 7,000 Bahstonians show up wicked pissed about the whole thing. Despite not having one lettah ‘r’ between us, we all come up with a wicked killah wahld class idea. Continue reading
I sit at home on a surprisingly warm November evening. The year is 1765, and it has been the year of my flourishing. All my life, I have been a woman of desires. I have yearned for something but never attained it; sought something but never found it; desired something but never had the pleasure of fulfillment. It has been in 1765 when it all changed.
Gender: I am male
Orientation: I am straight
Status: I am married, but seeking
every piece of tail I can get some action on the side.
Birthdate: April 13, 1743. I am old, but experienced 😉
Your location: Second Continental Congress, Philadelphia. Continue reading