Advertisements
Tag Archives: Bristol Bacchus

Super Tuesday Predictions

6 Mar

Wolf Blitzer can't stop trimming his beard in anticipation.

It’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for. The closest thing we’ve got to a national primary. The kind of day Karl Rove and George Stephanopoulos have wet dreams about. The moment we finally find out just how ambivalent Americans feel about Mitt Romney. It’s Super Tuesday! Follow our state-by-state guide for a comprehensive examination of how these 10 states will select their 2012 Republican nominee.

OHIO
I’ll be honest. Most of my knowledge regarding the state of Ohio comes from either Bristol Bacchus or Cleveland jokes. But if this state thought that it would be a good idea to induct the Beastie Boys and Neil Diamond into the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame, then I’m not sure how well I can trust the judgment of its citizens. The race between Santorum and Romney might be more unpredictable than a LeBron James televised announcement, but I think Romney pulls ahead after he is quoted at a campaign stop admitting that, like LeBron, he’s working on an autobiography but just can’t come up with a title.

GEORGIA
At the time of me writing this post, the New York Times has already called Georgia in favor of Gingrich with less than 1% of the polls reporting. Which is a relief, as it saves me the time of having to come up with jokes about Sherman’s March to the Sea, Coca-Cola, peaches, or how the 76 delegates up for grabs seems like a remarkably similar figure to what I assume the ex-Congressman’s BMI looks like.

OMG guyzzz y doesnt nybody lyke me??!?

TENNESSEE
Just once I want to see Mitt down a fifth of Jack, stumble through the electric slide at a Nashville honky tonk, drunk dial Tipper Gore, and finish the night sobbing outside of Graceland. I think if he can pull all four off before the polls close, he might have a fighting chance is stealing this Southern state from Gingrich. At least as much of a fighting chance as Johnston and Beauregard had at the Battle of Shiloh.

ALASKA
After ringing endorsements from Balto and Jewel, Ron Paul carries the Alaska primary by appealing to voters’ enthusiasm for legalized weed to help get through the winter and increase appreciation for the Northern Lights. Rumors abound that Gingrich promised to “drill baby drill” Sarah Palin if he was victorious, but are dismissed by Newt as a smear campaign invented by the devious liberal media hell-bent on distracting the American people from the real issues at stake in this election.

MASSACHUSETTS
In a surprise upset, Governor Romney arrives in a time machine from 2003 to defeat the current conservative incarnation of Mitt. The 2003 Romney also extols on the virtues of comprehensive health care, the success of the invasion of Iraq, and the musical brilliance of Evanescence.

IDAHO
What’s bland, white, and favored by many Irish Catholics? The Republican Party! Also, potatoes. Seeing that Idaho has a lot of both, I predict that a bland white Republican will win the Idaho caucus. Or maybe just a really fat potato dressed in a suit that many voters mistake for Newt Gingrich.

NORTH DAKOTA
North Dakota sucks so much, it’s developed an inferiority complex towards its neighbor to the South whose main claims to fame include a palace made of corn and a brief cameo appearance in North by Northwest. The state’s main exports are natural gas, lonesome prairie wind, tumbleweed, and depression. Even the nuclear missile silos left as soon as humanly possible. Like my seventh-grade self at the middle school dance, North Dakota’s willing to devote itself entirely to the first poor soul who shows it a shred of interest. All Romney has to do is show up and call North Dakota within the next three days to seal the deal.*

Pyrotechnics would really bolster his campaign stops

OKLAHOMA
The official rock song of Oklahoma is “Do You Realize??” by The Flaming Lips, which is pretty awesome until you imagine every citizen in the state singing “Everyone you know one day will die!,” and that the closest competition to The Flaming Lips for this prestigious title was the All-American Rejects’ “Move Along.” This, along with the fact that Oklahomans couldn’t come up with anything more original for their actual state song than fucking Rodgers and Hammerstein means that this state is bound to go for Ron Paul.

VERMONT
So long as the citizens of Vermont can find enough time to vote in between their busy schedule of wearing flannel, tapping for maple syrup, and not showering, I bet they go with the pride and joy of the Northeast, Scott Brown.

VIRGINIA
Considering Rick Santorum’s penchant for desperately holding on to socially conservative values that went out of vogue in the 1960s, the former Senator’s statement that Chief Justice Warren’s ruling in Loving v. Virginia “makes me want to spew some sort of vile amalgamation of vomit, semen, feces, and bile out of every orifice possible,” provides the essential vitriol necessary to win this key swing state despite not even making it on the ballot.

——————————————————————————————————————————
*Imagine, if you will, the charming Mitt Romney sauntering up to North Dakota, standing in the corner looking forlornly at all the cool kids being courted by swarthy Super PACs, and asking it to slow dance with him while Jessica Simpson’s “Take My Breath Away” plays in the background. I bet North Dakota would immediately take Romney home to Fargo and let him frack her all night.

Advertisements

Authors That Would Make Bad Writing Infinitely Better

6 Jan

As a manipulator of the English language myself, I hold several beliefs dear to my heart. They are as follows:

1) If you are over the age of 12 and still cannot successfully distinguish when words should have apostrophes (confusing “it’s” and “its,” “your” and “you’re”), I cannot respect your education. Why are you stupid?
2) If you can’t write something nice, don’t write anything at all. I’m not talking about pleasant or polite; I’m referring to “nice” writing as the opposite of writing that is bad, boring, poorly written, wrong, pointless, confused, frustrating, or Rick Perry.

Yeah, I know. It’s radical. Of course, not as radical as Rick Perry. But let’s face it: there is some literature/film/music that simply should have been penned by someone other than the original author. In some cases, aforementioned art is a slice of brilliance that got tarnished in the current writer’s incapable hands; in other cases it is an unsalvageable failure whose only option is to get worse so as to become presentably heinous.

In fact, may I make a few suggestions?

Twilight
by Terry Pratchett*

We’d all like this series so much better if Ms. Meyer’s attempt at a love story about a girl next door (translation: exposition on How To Have A Dysfunctional Relationship) had relatable and quirky characters with different fonts for every time they spoke. P-rad knows exactly how to make a totally impossible instance (Death playing Santa Claus? Criminals becoming post-men? Women in the army and not in the kitchen?) plausible, insightful, and funny — qualities which are all completely lacking in the hands of its current author.

Miley Cyrus’s memoir, Miles to Go
by Lemony Snicket

I haven’t read the original, but here is what I imagine it will read like, “My daddy is the only reason I’m famous. My brother croakmoans uncomfortably horny music to an audience that hasn’t got boobies yet. My boyfriend is way too old for me. I like drugs.” Are you attached to any of these characters? Do you care if the melancholy wit of Lemony Snicket creatively kills them off? Me neither. Just add a narrator who regularly urges you to stop reading, a meaninglessly depressing end,** and illustrations by Brett Helquist, and we’ve got ourselves acceptable piece of literature. It might even be appropriate for children, unlike everything else about Miley. Which brings us to:

“Party in the USA”
by Adele

Face it. She’d sing it better. Adele’s been so angsty lately (trying to set fire to the rain and all. She must be so frustrated) I’d like to see her getting down and shaking those God-given gifts. We know that when a Jay-Z song is on in Adele’s taxicabs, you better believe she puts her hands up.

Freud’s Early Theories
by Tara Gillespie

If you think about it, it wouldn’t be too different: My Immortal (the world’s worst fanfiction) and Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams are both mostly about sex/mostly wrong about sex. But if our favorite “goff” wrote it, we’d have the added pleasure of trying to decipher what words were behind the awful spelling in addition to laughing at his concept of penis envy and her concept of orgasm. Maybe she’d throw in some Harry Potter references*** along with her My Chemical Romance worship, extensive description of fishnets, and use of the phrase “passively frenching.” On the negative side, there will undoubtedly be a morbid amount of it’s/its confusion, but on the plus side, as far as we can tell, Tara wasn’t on cocaine, unlike Freud.

Glee
by Tommy Wiseau

Oh hai: it’s another artist who lacks command of the English language. Be honest with yourself — you don’t watch Glee for its**** gripping storyline. Having America’s most multi-untalented artist write/direct/produce/star/fornicate in the musical TV show can only make it more interesting. You know you want more of the writing that made Tommy’s masterpiece, The Room, so fantastic — what better way than to sit down with a bowl of popcorn to a fusion of pop culture featuring quotable magnificence such as, “You ah tearing me apaht, Wachel!” and “I did NAHT hit on Kurt. I did NAHT.” Best of all, we get to hear more of his wonderfully attractive accent/speech impediment as applied to music. Which, of course, he’ll arrange and sing entirely by himself.

Unfortunately for you, I have no suggestions on how to improve your terrible English paper. And so, I leave you with the immortal words of Dr. Seuss:
You have brains in your head, you have feet in your shoes,
You have heinously read all Sir Twattingworth spews.
You can steer yourself any direction you choose
(Just as long as it sounds like Erman Shmavenues).

——————————————————————————————————————————
*Another soul who understands the beauty in a footnote. All I want for Christmas is his semen in a petri dish with the reproductive cells of Bristol Bacchus. Bristol, dibs on being godmother.
**I’m all for realistic children’s literature, but I was really attached to Uncle Monty. And did anyone else develop a phobia of Lachrymose Leeches in Lake Michigan?
***Godwin’s law of NU: the longer a conversation continues between two NU students, the more likely a Harry Potter reference becomes.
****Did you see that apostrophe? No, you didn’t, because it does not belong there. It belongs in the first sentence of that paragraph.

Where to Find Your NU Love

9 Dec

With any luck, one day you'll make a heinous rock all of your own.

If you’re like me, a socially awkward alcoholic, you haven’t found your NU love yet. This is probably because the venues you most often frequent have three Greek letters in their names and smell vaguely like Four Loko and urine. Haven’t found any keepers while projectile vomming in the Beta Kappa handicap stall? Keep looking, young freshmen. Take my hand on the magical road of dating: from the painful first encounters and sloppy make outs to the time your suitor hangs your bra on your locker after you left it in his car. Oh wait, this isn’t high school anymore.

It’s time to look for some more obscure places to find your future lover and/or tonsil-hockey teammate. Here’s where to start.

1. A Swanky Restaurant
I suggest Bistro Bordeaux on Church St. Nothing can ever go wrong with a good French meal. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Bristol, I need to find a future lover before I can go to a swanky restaurant. Wrong! Go alone, but inform your waiter that someone else is joining you. Wear a red rose. Pray to God that someone mistakes you for their exponentially-cuter-than-you-looked-online blind date. If no one shows up, cry to your waiter about being stood up. Pray to God the waiter feels sympathetic/gives you their number/accompanies you back to your sex lair for the night.

Too forward for you? Work your way in slowly then. (That’s what she said.)

Yes, I'd like an overnight package please.

2. The Post Office
Guaranteed to generate the best pickup lines:
“Wanna be my priority male?” (Punny, right?)
“I’m here to pick up my package.” [Cast eyes down to genitalia]. (Classic.)
“If you liked it then you should’ve put a stamp on it.” (Because Beyoncé is a goddess.)

3. Dark Parking Garages
Ever feel uncomfortable introducing yourself to a girl in a bar? Wait until she’s walking back alone to her car! Explain that you saw her walking in a dark parking garage that may or may not be chock full of rapists or flesh-eating Republicans and decided to walk with her to protect her from said travesties. At first, she’ll probably pepper spray you, SING at you (solar plexus, instep, nose, groin),* or force you to watch a video of Michelle Bachmann eating a corn dog. But as soon as she realizes you’re just a creepy motherfucker with good intentions, she might just give you the seven-digit password to her pants.

Trolling for some bitches

4. Dog Shows
It works, believe me. It’s like a Cincinnati Cyclones game on $1 beer Wednesday nights, but with wine and trust-fund dog owners on Sundays at high tea.

Perhaps just as important as the places you should go, are the places you should NOT go.

1. University Place or Ridge Avenue
Unless you want to fall in love with a punk in a hoodie who steals your smartphone.

2. The Showers at SPAC
Unless you’re into watching/performing/assisting in self-gratification. Then balls-to-the-walls, young harlots!

3. The Sauna at SPAC
You are not into naked old Jewish women who look like sweaty beached whales. So don’t go in the sauna for love. In fact, don’t go into the sauna at all.

4. Find your NU love/ Flirting for Nerds
I attended both the speed dating event “Find your NU Love” and the seminar “Flirting for Nerds,” more out of irony than desperation. I did not find my NU love, nor did I learn how to flirt anymore heinously than I already do. So unless you want to wince every few minutes when the girl knitting a pair of Eskimo slippers snorts loudly, avoid NU dating events.

You know where to go. Now go and get ‘em, you sexually frustrated bastards.

——————————————————————————————————————————
*Miss Congeniality