9 GIFs for Humans

Being human is great. I should know, I’ve been one my entire life. And like any good human, I love GIFs. The short, looping animations please my simple

Five Objects That Should Be Made “For Her”

I have recently discovered that BiC has been making pens tailored specifically for women. These pink-and-purple innovations, made for ladies’ dainty hands, have enabled women to learn their ABCs, make pretty cursive letters, and even write out recipes. Of course, I can’t wait to get my hands on one, but in the meantime I thought I’d meekly suggest other female-oriented products to make women’s lives easier.

1. Beer and Soda/pop cans

My delicate feminine lips have been having difficulties sipping from the harsh metallic holes on the cans. If the makers of Natty could only market some pink fuzzy lids (floral decorations optional; I don’t ask for much) containing fruity flavors and roofies already mixed in, it would be so much easier to inebriate and “surprise” me.

Ellie K’s best parking job.

2. Doors

I can’t open doors for myself! Not only is it indecent, but my womanly muscles simply cannot muster the strength to turn knobs or push frames. Sometimes when I’m driving with my boyfriend (don’t worry- he’s always behind the wheel), he forgets to open the car door and let me out, and I have to sit there until he finishes eating his Chipotle. If there isn’t a chivalrous young chap around to open the doors to the Bloomingdale’s building, I’m often in such a tizzy that I can’t decide which miniskirt to buy. And don’t even get me started on revolving doors – I can’t figure out how those things work. If we only had doors that opened for women.

3. Washing machines

Wait, never mind. Those are already only for women.

4. Bookshelves

Look, I can’t read or comprehend big words (like all Sherman Ave writers), but I do understand this: I’m too petite to reach the top shelves in the kitchen, rendering them unusable. The bookshelves in our immaculately vacuumed living room are currently occupied by dictionaries, Catcher in the Rye, Shakespeare, and other things that don’t contribute to the enrichment of humanity.  So let’s get rid of those meaningless piles of ink and paper, paint those ugly planks a nice shade of mauve,* and I’ll store the waffle-maker where I don’t have to worry about it falling on my pretty face.

This was the best idea I’ve had all day. This was the only idea I’ve had all day. I really must phone the other ladies in the quilting circle.

5. Colleges

Sometimes having to interact with pre-med students and math majors makes my weensie brain feel justifiably inferior. But I bet if there were more schools like Barnard, we could focus on learning the things that really make the world run, like electric stoves and really good blowjobs. Why can’t I just major in ponies?

You miss 100% of the heinousness you don’t take. – Wayne Gretzky

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*Note to men: There are words – supposedly in English – that can only be identified or understood by women. They include mauve, ecru, duvet, lunula, flambé, macramé, purl, and selvedge. If anyone who claims to possess a penis can identify what these words mean, place a spider nearby and see if “he” can kill it on his own. If she cannot, do NOT under any circumstances give her power tools.

Sherman Ave’s Facebook Page is also made “for her.” You should like it.

Save the World, Stop SOPA

The biggest threat to your paper on the role of North Africa's economy in the Byzantine Empire circa 1400 since that fifth of Jack Daniels and Facebook

If you’re reading this, I assume you like the Internet (thanks Al Gore). As such, you should probably be running around in circles puking and crying and screaming and calling your representative in Congress and then puking some more, assuming that’s your normal reaction to receiving news of legislation you disagree with.

See, Congress is currently considering two bills—abbreviated to SOPA and PIPA—that are aimed at curbing online piracy of music and film. And while we at The Ave would like to go on the record as opposing illegal downloading (……Look in a mirror. Right now. Do it. Now pretend you’re looking at seven-year-old you. Now try to explain how you could illegally download The Muppets. Now rethink your life choices), these bills go way too far.

Both SOPA and PIPA would give the government sweeping powers to censor online content and target search engines or aggregators that link to websites it says are illegal. As a website that we can only imagine gives nightmares to top officials in the CIA almost every night (we take Mondays off. Too busy Keggin, ya know?), we naturally disapprove.

But the heinous doesn’t stop there. Because of these bills, websites such as icanhazcheezeburger.com, Redditt and WIKIPEDIA all plan to go black tomorrow in protest. Seriously.

As if it isn’t bad enough that we won’t be able to get our full fix of kittens who hate their owners,* WIKIPEDIA IS GOING DOWN. Do you people even comprehend what that means? Literally, no one will know anything anymore. The single database in which all of humanity has stored the entirety of its collective knowledge will be gone at midnight tonight. Every single person on this soon-to-be-forsaken planet will be left with no awareness of the world around them. All sense of intelligence will be replaced by a distant, vacant stare and a sense of longing. Basically, imagine that every person on the planet is Rick Perry. But dumber and less hostile.

Now, I should point out that our boy Barack has said he will not sign these bills, and neither piece of legislation has been voted on or passed by either house of Congress.

But still the damage has been done. See, by naming the House version PIPA, supporters of this bill have already ruined my life. Pippa should be a word of joy, a word of happiness, and a word of incredibly shaped arses. Thanks to these heinous toolboxes, PIPA (same pronunciation as the first name of Our Lady of Bootyville) is instead an Orwellian nightmare of government overreach and special interests.

Censorship never seemed so attractive

In summary, I must admit I was wrong. I thought that there was nothing that could ruin Hottie McNiceAss from across the pond. I thought she was too good and had too round of a behind to be tainted by anything. But in less than eight months, our shitsville of a Congress has done it.

And so, for making me a liar, ruining Pippa and dooming humanity I say this to Congress: Ugh. Typical.

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*Porn too. Don’t forget about the porn.

Hate a Random Country: France

A Frenchman overcoming his existential ennui with wine, bread, and unbridled douchiness.

Have you ever had your testicles sawed off with a rusty butter knife at a Nickelback concert? Although that may sound like the worst possible fate one could suffer, there are over 60 million people in the world who suffer a fate much worse. I’m not talking about AIDS victims, I’m not talking about human rights violations – I’m not even talking about Cubs fans. I’m referring, of course, to the French. Those elitist semensicles are the physical embodiment of everything heinous about the world, which is a substantial claim, given that they inhabit the same planet as other notorious twatbarrels like Iceland and New Zealand.

I’d like to begin this exposè by clarifying one crucial point: The French did not help us to gain our independence. “Historians” may assert that the French came to our “rescue” in “boats,” but we all know that those were just patriotic pirates mistaken for Frenchmen because of their tragic speech impediments.

Don't be fooled by the buxom and idyllic French Lady Liberty

Now, where was I? Oh that’s right – I was talking about how France is the most pitiful heap of Le Scrotum upon which humanity ever laid its sorrowful eyes. The first point of scrutiny is their flag, which boasts the triumphant red, white, and blue color combination, just like the United States. Don’t be fooled, though – while the American flag’s colors stand respectively for valor, purity, and justice, the French flag is merely a white flag of surrender with red and blue bars symbolizing red wine and bleu cheese.

You can't sit with us! That's the second time this week you've worn pantaloons!

France’s history of “leadership” is also notably heinous. Ranging from Louis XIV (who held the title of “Biggest P-tripper” for almost 300 years until Sherman Ave was created) to Nicolas Sarkozy (the only attendant of the G20 summit who could easily double as a cast member on Jersey Shore), the presidency and monarchy of France were never lucky enough to see any George Washingtons or Andrew Jacksons take office. The most successful leader they had was Napoleon, who can only be compared to an atrocious illegitimate lovechild of Danny DeVito and Jim Cramer. Napoleon accomplished some things as a leader, but all of his achievements are effectively canceled out by the fact that his men killed Prince Bolkonsky. Fucker.

To be fair, it was the first French combat victory in quite a long time.

Another hilariously sad aspect of France is its athletic culture. Like most nations that are absolutely rancid, France’s national sport is soccer, or “football,” as known by Brits and hipsters. One of my personal favorite highlights in France’s history is the national team’s 17-1 loss to Denmark in 1908. I don’t think there’s really too much more I need to say here – I’ll just humbly point out how demoralizing it must be to get clobbered by a country whose Queen fucked her brother-in-law. However, an even more humiliating event in the team’s history happened in the 2006 World Cup Final, when Zinedine Zidane – someone who stands out as a douchegargler even among the French populace – found it necessary to blatantly headbutt a member of the opposing Italian team. And then they lost! That’s like being ass-raped and still getting pregnant. Better yet, when the French national team qualified for the 2010 World Cup, they didn’t even make it to the primary elimination round; they were bested by the national teams of Mexico, South Africa, and – I shit you not – Uruguay. That was certainly a gargantuan blow to their ego, but thankfully they have enough ego in just their waxed mustaches that it didn’t do any permanent damage.

Some pansy French guy, probably after finding out how fucking lame the 5th Republic is or something

If you’re looking for more reasons why France is innately inferior, the proof is in the crêpes. Remember that time we landed at Normandy and showed the Nazis that they were not(sy) going to win World War II, while the French were too busy cultivating their fucking grapes? Remember that time the French thought they were going to win the 4×100 swimming relay in the 2008 Summer Olympics, and then American bamf-stick Jason Lezak came from behind like he was Kobe Bryant (not a basketball reference)? Remember that time an American athlete with a trunk only half-full of junk (or half-empty, for all you private-part pessimists) went into France and beat them at their own sport 7 times in a row? Because I remember. So, to all Frenchmen and Frenchwomen (often a difficult distinction to make), I leave you with this last thought: Next time your flagrant self-centeredness convinces you that you’re the best country in the world, you can escargot fuck yourself.

Badasses in History: Winston Churchill

Rumor has it that Churchill fathered his successor to the throne of Badassery, Morty Schapiro

The study of history is, in many ways, the study of humanity. From kings and heroes to slaves and cowards, history provides us with an unrivaled view into the inner workings of the human mind.

But never has any historical figure kicked quite as much ass as Winston Churchill.

Let’s start off by investigating what the man had to work with. On the pros side, he was born the grandson of the seventh Duke of Marlborough. Aristocratic blood? Check. He was enrolled in the best schools. Education? Check. He was a brilliant politician. Acumen? Check. Oh, he also beat the Nazis. Awesomeness? Check.

Now for the cons. That school he was in? He hated it and got bad grades. Good GPA? Not check. He was fat…and rude…and a bit of a drunk. Winning personality? Not check. At the time of his political achievements, he faced a weak parliament and a weaker aristocracy. Strong support system for confronting foreign difficulties and interacting with the power-hungry, vicious Nazis? Not check.

The man was born with five-pound jowls

So to recap: Winston Churchill was born rich, but balked at any attempts to civilize him beyond what was required to find and light cigars, and—who could forget?— jimmy open the liquor cabinet. He then went off to the Royal Military College where he had the option of enrolling in either the cavalry or the infantry. He chose the cavalry. Why? Because it had a lower grade requirement and he hated math. Here was a man who had his priorities straight.

At that point, his father asked that he transfer to the infantry, to which I can only presume Winston replied: “Suck it.” Whatever his exact words, he stayed in the cavalry for some time until he got bored—again I can only assume because he was too bitching at everything for his regiment to handle—at which point he became a journalist and war-correspondent. Even more awesome (if such a thing could be possible) Churchill then went to Cuba to follow a conflict between Spain and the Cuban rebels, where he learned about cigars. His response was reportedly to blow smoke in the face of the Spanish General Ramon de Not-As-Mind-Blowing-as-Churchill. As history has taught us, this ended the war then and there.

But while his early life was too grandiose for words, it was Churchill’s later life that cemented his place as history’s greatest badass. You see, Churchill’s greatest quality was this: he was fucking hilarious. Yes, Churchill played a central role in the defeat of the Axis powers and the preservation of Great Britain beyond the bombing of London. But all of that nonsense pales in comparison to his rollicking contributions to insult comedy.

This image was captured moments after Churchill listed off the gut-wrenchingly filthy sexual activities he had engaged in with Stalin's mother

Though Churchill’s insults can — and do — fill entire books, some of them stick as even more groin-grabbingly funny than others. When asked about his opinion of Neville Chamberlain (who some of you may remember as the dickwad who tried appeasing the Nazis as British Prime Minister before Churchill), Old Winston had this to say: “He looked at foreign affairs through the wrong end of a municipal drainpipe.” In other words: “That dude is a shitface.”

On cultured people, tubby had this to say: “Cultured people are merely the glittering scum which floats upon the deep river of production.” What a baller.

Still, as funny as Churchill was in general, he had two particular adversaries with whom he had supreme moments of insulting hilarity: Lady Nancy Astor, member of Parliament and second-class comic, and playwright George Bernard Shaw.

We’ll start with Shaw. Both intellectuals (Shaw of the kind that actually does things of artistic and literary merit, and Churchill of the kind that makes fun of those things), the two often enjoyed exchanging witticisms. Shaw, no real fan of Churchill’s, thought it might be funny to send Winston a pair of tickets to Shaw’s newest play, Major Barbara. Accompanying the tickets was a short note: “Have reserved two tickets for opening night. Bring a friend, if you have one.”

Now, at this point, any lesser man would have accepted the truly hilarious burn at face value. Not Chubby Churchill. He wired back—in a moment where even God himself spit out his top ramen in laughter—”Cannot possibly come first night, will attend second, if there is one.”

Awesome.

Onto adversary number two: Lady Astor. The two had a long legacy of mocking one another, Astor for Churchill’s rampant alcoholism and obesity, Churchill for Astor’s general bitchiness. Who can forget this exchange:

He usually only needed one of those fingers to properly express himself

Astor: If you were my husband, I’d poison your tea.
Churchill: Madam, if you were my wife, I’d drink it.

Again, awesome. But these clashes of wits pale in comparison to a later insult. One particular evening, Churchill came to a party visibly drunk and irate, so much so that a Mrs. Bessie Braddock quite publicly remarked, “Mr. Churchill, you are drunk!” But Winston, drunk or not, knew a challenge when he heard one. After shouting “Challenge Accepted!” he looked the offending woman in the eye (or chest, as Churchill was not one for manners) and said: “Yes, and you, Madam, are ugly but tomorrow I shall be sober and you will still be ugly.”

So yeah, no one rocked the house like Winston.

Some more Churchill insults for your consideration:

• Young man (after seeing Churchill leave the bathroom without washing his hands): At Eton they taught us to wash our hands after using the toilet.
  Churchill: At Harrow they taught us not to piss on our hands.
• [Referring to Arthur Balfour] If you wanted nothing done at all, Balfour was the man for the job.


The British Prime Minister after single-handedly clearing Juno Beach during D-Day

• Churchill: Madam, would you sleep with me for five million pounds?
  Woman: My goodness, Mr. Churchill… Well, I suppose… we would have to discuss terms, of course…
  Churchill: Would you sleep with me for five pounds?
  Woman: Mr. Churchill, what kind of woman do you think I am?!
  Churchill: Madam, we’ve already established that. Now we are haggling about the price.

And now for the winner:

• [Referring to Charles De Gaulle] He looks like a female llama who has been surprised in the bath.

–Josh Kopel