Roommate Swears to Have Smoked with Chance The Rapper One Time

(via MTV)

EVANSTON, Il. – On Thursday night, shortly after Mayfest organizers announced that Chance The Rapper would be the daytime headliner at Dillo Day, your roommate excitedly declared that he met Chance at a party last summer. According to your roommate, the party was hosted by his high school buddy’s second-cousin at an apartment in the Southside of Chicago in late July.

Your roommate claims to have recognized the 20 year-old rapper immediately because he had been a fan of him “forever,” even before the release of his first mixtape, #10Day. Furthermore, your roommate “swears to fucking god” that he smoked a massive blunt with him outside and listened to him free-style rap.

When asked for comment, your roommate giddily recounted his life-defining experience:

Zero Dark Thirty: A Guide Because You’ve Literally Raised Zero Dollars for DM

You definitely didn’t mean for this to make it to this point. But this is what you get for pretending to be a good person and signing up for Dance Marathon. You “just got really swamped over the past couple of months,” and here you are, staring helplessly at your own, sad fundraising page that no one has visited. But fear not! DM is just like any massive paper you can tackle the night before (I actually have no idea, this is the first time I’ve done this. This is just how I envision my next few days going. Ha!). Here are the steps to follow:

The first and only dollar raised after six fucking hours of canning. (via http://zonathon.wordpress.com/wildcats/fundraising/)

1) Swallow your pride and post a link to your fundraising page on your Facebook–I know, I know, it’s desperate. But you have to start somewhere. Most people did this in October. Posting it on your Facebook will

5 African Warlords Who Would Be Really Good at Running Nightclubs

Idi Amin

You can tell that guy is all about leisure, luxury, and popping bottles.

Nicknamed “The Butcher” after leading a 1971 military coup in Uganda resulting in the deaths of millions of people, Idi exemplifies what it means to take charge and get the job done. The bar needs to be restocked? Idi’s got it. Rowdy guests? Don’t worry, Idi’s army can handle it. Need to reclaim parts of Kenya and Sudan to build that outdoor pool-strip club hybrid? Idi is your man. The warlord ended up deposed and exiled to Saudi Arabia, the world’s party capital, ensuring that “Brodi” could continue using his ruthless genocidal tendencies to make sure that only the coolest people are left in the club.

Amanda Bynes: Master Troll

Troll

Do you ever think about the celebrity infatuation that exists in this county?

The generous amount of on-air time spent covering the Hollywood aristocracy would make any publicity-seeking radical weep into their manifestos. This is especially true with the celebrity meltdown, the fall from grace which has become a parody of itself. The drugs, the denials, the arrests, it has all become so cliché that you need to spice it up nowadays if you want attention (e.g. with racism, animal abuse, revanchism, etc.).

Sex, Weed, and Jesus – Oh My: Your Guide to Spring Quarter 2012 at Northwestern

Dude, do you know how many stations of the cross I had to go through?

Northwestern: Hall of academia, ambition, and — according to a bathroom attendant for the Chicago Cubs — ‘Good weed and pussy.’ Yes, when questioned about what Northwestern excels at, this valiant and questionably sober Cubs employee cited Northwestern as a source of excellent cannabis and lady parts. And though I was originally in disbelief that Northwestern would be known for anything other creating a big build-up and finishing disappointingly in everything (just like my sex life, AMIRIGHT? HIGH-FIVE!), this past week seems to be evidence that Northwestern is a den of poon and pot…and Jesus.

Yeah, Jesus is there too. I mean, you can’t really have two of them without the third being there. It’s in the Bible. Really, you’re going to go read the Bible and check? You could be reading about marijuana and sex, and you’re going to go read the Bible? That’s what I thought. It’s in the Bible then. Markwell even says so. Now that we all have a firm understanding of the Christian holy text, let me review why Northwestern is now everyone’s favorite den of sin and religion.

Sex Week
So I’m going to be really honest here: I don’t know much about sex. I always assumed sex was like Scrabble – something you did alone in your room crying because your prom date Susie dumped you the night before to go with the entire football team who she swore were “just friends” (I STILL LOVE YOU SUSIE!). Thanks to Sex Week though, I have learned sex can be something else: constantly, awkwardly present. Yes, for one week, sex was everywhere. Not in the theoretically awesome way, but realistically weird way, of people having sex everywhere (imagine people having sex everywhere you look. Doesn’t it sound cool in a really crazy way? Now imagine everyone at Northwestern having sex everywhere. Not so awesome.), but in the uncomfortable “everyone who I don’t want to imagine having sex is now talking about themselves having sex” kind of way. However, there is one positive thing to come out of Sex Week: dick pics. I have never heard so many people talk about “dick pics” so frequently, and it has quickly become my favorite topic of conversation. All of this conversation has brought me to one conclusion: everyone loves dick pics. In fact, I have realized that there must be nothing more attractive to women than the male penis on its own. Is that true? I feel like it must be true. So that was Sex Week.

You shall not pass... Until you hit me up with some of that dank shit.

4/20
With the fateful date of April 20th upon us, it’s time for most Northwestern students’ favorite hobby: judging people. For those who do not know the significance of April 20th, it is the day when heathens smoke marijuana, slothfully lie around, and enjoy life…bastards. However, to specify this to Northwestern, April 20th is the day sixty percent of students get high, thirty-nine percent of students don’t get high, and one percent of students freak the fuck out about the sixty percent of students smoking – and for good reason! Marijuana is the most dangerous thing to ever exist ever! Did you know that when people smoke marijuana, they feel lethargic, happy……..and KILL BUNNIES! It’s true! The government told me so. So as you think about whether or not you’re going to light up this April 20th, every hit from the bong you take and every bit of marijuana you inhale will lead to you killing a bunny.

I Agree With Markwell
Let’s be honest here guys: you’re probably bored by now. Nobody here wants to hear about sex and marijuana. Snorefest, right? So let’s get to what everybody wants to hear about: religion. Apparently there’s this guy named Markwell . He likes Jesus or some shit like that. I don’t know. Anyhow, I’m not here to debate religion – since there’s no debate to be had. The only true religion is Glandorism. There is only one simple tenet to Glandorism: God takes many forms, and all of those forms are dragons. Now that we have unanimity in our religious beliefs (you’re not going to disagree with a dragon, are you? Of course not), we can get to the important part of the Markwell campaign: Markwell. I’m not sure where they found this guy, but they probably should have found a more likeable guy. Basically, they should have found a non-engineer. Nothing against engineers, but yeah………..Engineers……No. Just no. That’s actually all I know about Markwell. However, he’s an engineer and people agree with him, so I already don’t like him.

In conclusion, Northwestern Spring Quarter 2012 boils down to three basic things: sex, weed, and Jesus. SO CALL ME MAYBE!

Authors That Would Make Bad Writing Infinitely Better

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.

10 Reasons Why You Should Apply to be a Writer for Sherman Ave

Everything the sun touches will be yours

10. You want to get involved on campus.
Sherman Ave is a great way to get involved, because… well…
…okay, there’s a reason this is number ten. But it sure is a hell of a lot better way to get involved here at Northwestern than joining a group of peppy undergrads who sing a capella covers of Yellowcard.

9. You aren’t currently a writer on Sherman Ave.
Realistically, you aren’t content with that. Join us, and we will imbue your life with meaning and satisfaction.

Ross Packingham as a child

8. The lifestyle.
Drugs, sex, and rock and roll. Except it would be more aptly described as alcohol, alcohol, and Bruce Springsteen. C’mon, all the cool kids are doing it. So is some twat named Evander Jones.

7. You love Morty.
We love Morty. Is that not enough? Just think about the man’s silky, silvery beard and how much you’d love to write articles about it.

6. Pseudonyms.
Everyone secretly yearns for a secret identity. As a writer on Sherman Ave, you’ll get the chance to not only have a secret identity, but to have a secret identity that offends at least 85% of the global population.

Warning: All new Sherman Ave writers must first pledge their undying love and allegiance to Pippa before they can start writing

5. You’re unnecessarily attracted to Pippa Middleton.
Join the club, champ.

4. It’s free.
We live in a world where nearly everything costs money – barring, of course, happiness. And while money can’t buy happiness, being a writer on Sherman Ave can bring you relative happiness from the heinousness and despair you thrust upon others. And if that’s not enough to warm the cockles of your frigid heart, just think of all the slampieces you’ll bag as a writer for this blog (unless, of course, you first have to explain to her that you are the true identity of somebody named “Sir Edward Twattingworth III”).

3. You went to Lyons Township High School.
We don’t know what it is about that place, but they manage to crank out more atrocious individuals than Octo-Mom would if she were boinking Fred Phelps.

2. You came to our informational meeting.
It was at Burger King at 1 o’clock on a Saturday afternoon. You wore a three-piece suit with a keyboard tie. We were visibly intoxicated. Don’t even try telling us you were just there for the food.

A graphical representation of the Sherman Ave community

1. The people.
Sherman Ave is an excellent group of people, who will do everything from drunkenly showing up to a house party dressed as John F. Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe to beaning you in the cranium with freshly-picked apples. The people who aren’t us want to be us. And the people who don’t want to be us are probably from one of the following countries: Latvia, New Zealand, Iceland, Uruguay, Brazil, Kyrgyzstan, São Tomé and Príncipe, France, or Costa Rica.