The Twelve Worst Things People Say to Northwestern Students

1. “What’s it like going to school in Boston?”
It’s Northwestern, not that other school in Boston. You know, “Chicago’s Big Ten Team?”

2. “How many times have you been to the NCAA tournament?”
Who’s really counting these days (#me #shame #depression)? Anyway, Chris Collins is going to take us to the Promised Land within the next two years, and there’s like a million other sports in which we’re bomb-ass.

3. “Son, your mother and I are getting a divorce.”
Seriously? Have you seen our ACT scores?

Top 5 Reasons Ben Gibbard and Zooey Deschanel Got Divorced

This month marks the four-year wedding anniversary of Ben Gibbard and Zooey Deschanel. Ben is best known as the sad-sack lead singer of Death Cab for Cutie and The Postal Service, while Zooey is an actress as well as the songstress for the band She & Him. Unfortunately, everyone’s favorite pick for “Cutest Indie Couple” have been separated almost as long as they were married, and their divorce was finalized in December.

When the pair first became an item, I combined their names to create the celebrity power couple name “Zen,” thinking it captured the harmonious nature of their relationship. Knowing how things turned out, “Booey” (pronounced like the British glam-rocker’s surname) might have been a better choice.

Sherman Ave Presents: Ikea Bingo

Ikea is an awful place.  The Swede-founded furniture mega-mart is like some terrible cross between Disneyworld, the Minotaur’s Labyrinth, and your local mattress store.  It is humanly impossible to spend less than thirty minutes inside its walls, trying desperately to navigate yourself through the aisles of Bjurstas and Husviks, all while dodging the inevitable hoards of small children manically gallivanting across your path.  For college students, however, it’s an unavoidable destination: if you need a piece of furniture, Ikea’s gonna have it (simply because of the store’s sheer size); as such, hundreds of thousands of university kids make the pilgrimage through Ikea’s maze-like corridors every summer’s end.

Why I’m Voting for Obama: Five Haikus

I’d give him the head of state.

I’m no political scientist. I have never peered over the edge of the fiscal cliff; my knowledge of U.S. foreign policy in Afghanistan is hazier than the only night I’ve ever been to the Deuce; and I picture the inner workings of the White House as strikingly similar to the Department of Mysteries in Harry Potter.

I am, however, a sucker for cool people doing cool shit. So SUCK IT, political ideologues – this election day, I’m gonna vote for Obama because he is both a PILF and the epitome of badass. Never mind that I believe in his straightforward adherence to old-fashioned democratic ideals – as in, equality in everything from universal health care  and marriage to freedom of choice – or his defense of national parks, or the respect he commands internationally. That shit pales in comparison to his killer dirt-off-your-shoulder. The Obamas, ESPECIALLY Barack, are rad. Just like, super cool. Honestly, even if Obama was all, “Let’s just put Sasha and Malia and the dog in charge while I go surfing in Honolulu and smoke some weed,” I’d vote for him anyway. A cool president is worth a million jobs in the manufacturing sector.

You know what else is worth a million jobs in the manufacturing sector? Amateur poetry. And everyone knows that the best form of amateur poetry comes in snack-size haikus – traditional short-form Japanese poems that follow a 5-7-5 syllabic pattern. So without further ado, I present an artistic homage to my favorite prez’ campaign in a manner that’s about as political as a toy poodle.

On Michelle’s super-toned arms
Graceful, burnished, buff
Those arms could lift our nation.
Can I vote for them?

On Barack’s Rad Music Taste
Let’s contrast your tunes
– Kanye, Bruce, Aretha – Mitt’s:
Toby Fucking Keith.

On the fact that he has a puppy named in accordance with said music taste:
You’re the First Dog, the
Second Bo, the third chillest
White House resident.

On Weapons of Choice
In a real battle,
Your horses and bayonets
Would smash Mitt’s Big Bird.

On the book he wrote/dedicated to his daughters WHILE BEING A PRESIDENT
You wrote a FUCKING
KID’S BOOK about national
Heroes. Marriage me, plz.

Now that you’ve learned a little more about America’s favorite chiller firsthand – and gotten a little lesson in poetic brilliance along the way – I challenge you to come up with a haiku of your own about Mr. Barack! Challenge yourself and make it politically relevant. Better yet, make it dope.

Rock out with ur barack out,
Gwyneth

Happy Chick-Fil-A Day: 3 Things that are Actually Destroying the Sanctity of Marriage in America

Hmmmmm……..

Happy Chick-Fil-A day!

First, I’m going to point out that bitching about how someone’s interpretation of the Bible is wrong isn’t going to change their beliefs. Then I’m going to bitch about anti-gay crusaders’ interpretation of the Bible.

“The sanctity of marriage,” according to my translation of some people’s opinion, is a statement that presumably means that marriage is a Rull Special Thang. By letting just anyone marry, it’s not Rull Special anymore. Okay, got it. But the strategy so far (convert every LGBTQ in America by invalidating their feelings and telling them that they’re aberrations?) hasn’t really worked. If we’re gonna go down the road of preserve-marriage-by-making-it-only-available-to-some, we should bar a few others as well. Or just assassinate them, cause I’d be down with that.

1. Bruno Mars
Finish this sentence:

“It’s a beautiful night. We’re looking for something dumb to do. Hey baby, I think I want to __.”

Get Northwasted with ShermanAviators and attempt to pee on every building on campus while singing an impromptu a capella Katy Perry/Adele mashup? No, I’m sure you’re aware that that’s Ross Packingham’s sole purpose in life. Host a Winnie the Pooh-themed squaredance and kidnap someone’s mom because you want an even number to play Flipcup? No, that doesn’t rhyme. Beat the shit out of a homeless dude? Apparently at least three assholes who need to die painfully are into that, but the author and vessel of these words has a much more sinister plot.  Bruno Mars, who according to a recent poll has swiped the v-cards of 35% of teenage girls during their algebra daydreams,* wants to marry you.

…the fuck??

Look, B-mizzle, your name and your voice sound like they belong to a small ugly dog or a European pseudo-manslut. I’m sick of hearing your song about a completely uneventful day. And the assholes in this world who are offended by two people enjoying one anothers’ penises should really just calm the fuck down and be offended by Bruno Mars instead. This Motherfucker is partaking in the drink of the devil and clearly hasn’t asked her father’s permission. I’d mention that love isn’t exactly a central theme of the song, but the sacred kinds of marriage are apparently built on sanctity and not love, or no one would GAF.

Hell, at least Train was going to wait until he got the nerve to say hello in that café.

Hello Cleaveland!!!

2. Kim Kardashian
I wish that, for every small child that was given a homophobic protest sign by a Bigoted Motherfucker, another small child would be given a sign that said, “For the love of whatever God you believe in, stop media coverage of this woman.” While I congratulate her on having an admirable pair of boobies, only a woman desperate for companionship would marry someone who has the word “hump” in his name. She has also casually tossed the idea around of marrying her current beau, and I am convinced that living with Kanye West would be almost as bad as reading Ross Packingham’s Facebook powertrips.

Look, let’s all just agree that the Kardashian family is a few hookers short of a brothel and one letter short of a really fucked-up set of initials. Now who wants to take bets on when the number of how many weddings she’s had will exceed her bust measurement?

3. Anyone in Las Vegas
Enough said.

 

I will conclude this pathetic rant with the semi-relevant words of Commandant Leo Sextoi: “Bitches be too pretentious and uptight.”

 

“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is heinous. The other is as though everything is heinous.” – Albert Einstein

 

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*second only to Justin Bieber, who regularly performs cunnilingus on young women while they avoid focusing on whatever the fuck their stupid English teacher is saying.

Fucked Up Children’s Shows

College is this weird time where everyone seems to take a decade-long step back in terms of maturity.  Everyone quotes Disney movies like it makes them cool, everyone watches Arthur, and everyone’s ability to control their bodily functions suffers major deterioration.  It’s a time of nostalgia.

But there’s something dark that lurks beneath the surface of some of the touchstones that defined our childhoods.  Something I’ve only noticed when applying a more mature perspective to the shows we all love.  So without further adieu, I present to you the most disturbing realizations I’ve had about the popular shows of our childhood.

Oh Clifford…

1. What the fuck is up with Clifford the Big Red Dog?
Have you guys seen Clifford? He’s the size of a house! A house. Wanna know what else is the size of a house? Houses. That’s like the only fucking thing because houses are huge.

And yet no one seems concerned. Do you know how dangerous that is? He’s a goddamn dog. Dogs: The animals that have such a limited presence of mind that they sometimes literally eat their own shit. Speaking of which, where does Clifford shit? It must be the size of a car. That dog is disgusting.

What’s stopping Clifford from seeing a squirrel and just tearing across town, inflicting the greatest instance of domestic damage since Hurricane Katrina? Clifford is a big red menace. If I could put down any cartoon dog, it would be Scrappy Doo. But Clifford would be a close second.

Funny, that walk suddenly looks a lot like a plantation owners stroll.

2. Arthur: Owns a dog
Now, I love Arthur. Without him I wouldn’t know that it was a wonderful kind of day, where we could learn to laugh and play and get along with each other. However, upon revisiting it in college (top-tier education, what?) I’ve realized that there is a seriously fucked up wrinkle in the Arthur world. I’ll break it down for you like this:

1) Everyone in Arthur is an animal.
2) All those animals are intelligent, like people
3) Therefore, animals are like people
4) Arthur owns a pet dog
5) Arthur owns a dog
6) Arthur owns a person
7) Arthur is a slave owner, of some mentally-stunted creature named “Pal”

So what we’re left with is basically this: Arthur owns a mentally-handicapped slave. I… I think I need to go lie down.

3. Recess is a caste system
When I watched Recess, I thought that the way the show divided the classes was funny. I was a mature, clever fifth grader — I was totally in on this joke. But re-watching the show, the world of recess is screwed up, in a serious way.

You guys remember the kindergarten class? The one that’s full of tiny, brutal savages? That speak in broken English and hunt older kids for sport?

What the hell happens to them when they graduate?

I don’t know where their teacher is, sometimes I think you see her exhausted and frazzled, but it’s more fun and equally applicable to pretend that the kids killed and ate her. Nothing is being done to prepare these children for the rest of their lives; they aren’t even learning to speak, much less how to read. Wanna know something that does really poorly in the United States? Tribal societies. Those kids are fucked.

“What do you mean I’m five minutes late?”

4. Thomas the Train: Sir Toppham Hat is a psycopath
Thomas the train is a simple show. It’s about a bunch of trains coming together on an island to work together and learn the meaning of friendship. That is, until you realize that the man who runs the Island of Sodor has absolutely no problem oppressing his train minions.

Now, a common catchphrase on the show is “you are a very useful engine!” This is all fine I guess, we want people to be useful. But then you realize that even though the Trains in the world of Thomas the Train can talk, and think, and feel, they’re still treated like trains. For example:

In the episode “Donald and Douglas” two trains have to compete against each other to see who is more efficient, and the train who doesn’t win will be destroyed. Holy shit. That’d be like if Morty made you compete with the kid who sits next to you for midterm grades, and then if you lost SENT YOU TO SCOTLAND TO BE TAKEN APART.

Sure, sure, but that’s just one episode. WAIT. NO IT’S NOT. Here’s the episode “The Sad Story of Henry.” This episode is about a train that’s afraid of the rain, so on a rainy day he refuses to come out of a tunnel because he’s scared that the rain will ruin his paint. The townspeople try to push and pull him out, but are ultimately unable too. So the Fat Controller (Sir Toppham Hat) orders him BRICKED INTO THE TUNNEL.

Forever. The train who not only can think, but has developed enough mentally to have a well-formed phobia.

This is how the Thomas the Train Wiki summary of the episode ends: “Henry is left in the tunnel cold, dirty, and lonely. He now wonders if he will ever be let out to pull trains again.”

Run on schedule, or be locked in a tunnel forever. Sweet dreams kids!

Morgan Freeman To Marry Granddaughter

Warning: The word ‘heinous’ is used approximately eight million times in this article. Families with young children are advised to proceed with caution.

Marrying your granddaugher is a bad thing. Maybe the worst of things.

The problem with beautiful voices is that they are often attached to real people. And real people are not beautiful. They are heinous. This can be jarring sometimes.

Take Ross Packingham, for instance. The man has the voice of an angel, but I wouldn’t let him near your pets if I was you. Axl Rose likewise has a great voice, but I wouldn’t let him near your Lana Del Reys if I were you.

People basically fall into three categories of heinous: accidentally heinous, unabashedly heinous, and Rush Limbaugh. The first group means well. They’re nice guys; they always show up to your acapella concerts and would never fuck you without charming and dining you first. They just can’t help it that sometimes they forget to text you back, and yeah, maybe they do avert their eyes whenever they pass the hobos outside CVS. The second group, on the other hand, takes YOLO way too seriously. They often end up eating dinner at Fran’s Café at 1 am, and they have their own personal Walk of Shame route. They mean you no harm or ill will; just don’t get them drunk in Mexico because they might end up with a tattoo of an ice cream cone on their face. The third group is self-explanatory.

The members of the third group have existed since basically the beginning of the time. We’re all comfortable with dividing the world like that. Well, all of us except Morgan Freeman. In the grand tradition of great innovators and thinkers outside of boxes, Freeman was dissatisfied with the current categorical structure of the world around him and acted decisively to change it. But whereas Einstein invented quantum physics and Magellan sailed around the world, Freeman fucked his granddaughter.

Oh, I’m sorry, did you not know that? Well, then, let me repeat it for emphasis: MORGAN FREEMAN IS GOING TO MARRY HIS GRANDDAUGHTER. This is heinous and not in the fun way. This is a whole new level of heinous that not even a drunk, Adele-singing Sir Twattingworth could possibly match.

Okay, so they’re not really related by blood, but still, he’s 72 and she’s 27, and those ages should never be connected in a sexual context. According to the highly respected journalistic watchdog publication Peace FM Online, Freeman and E’Dena Hines “had a questionable sexual encounter when she was young.” (…) Now the cat is out of the bag and Freeman’s wife is filing for divorce, and an unnamed source is credited as saying that “becoming Mrs. Freeman has been E’Dena’s goal.”

Now I ain’t sayin’ she a gold digger! OH WAIT YES I AM. But can you really blame her? Didn’t becoming Mrs. Freeman become everyone’s goal the moment they first saw March of the Penguins? This whole situation is strange, but E’Dena isn’t acting any different than we would in that situation. She falls strictly into that second category of heinousness I mentioned earlier. But Freeman is inventing a whole new category, one that is currently occupied only by himself (although the potential heinousness of a war on porn means that a President Santorum could conceivably get on his level, as well as that kid from the front page of Reddit who sodomized his dog with a hair brush), which begs the question: Why?

Seriously, you’re Morgan Freeman! For God’s sake, Evander Jones has been known to use his position as Sherman Ave editor-in-chief as a pick-up line at parties. And it kind of works!* You’re telling me “hey, I narrated The Shawshank Redemption” wouldn’t make any reasonable girl melt into a pile of goo? Why marry your granddaughter when you could have, say, literally anyone and not defy centuries of anti-heinous societal norms?

I am shaking my head. The world is a heinous place.

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*It doesn’t.

Oscar Buzzed

In case anyone hasn’t gone on the internet today, the Oscar nominees were announced this morning! A few surprises, some snubs (where was Jack and Jill?!), but mostly just confusion. “What are all these movies about?” you’re thinking, “I have never even heard of them! Whine whine whine, me me me!” Well calm down, Pi Phi! Don’t worry, I’m a film major, I’ll simplify it for you:

The Artist
A haunting look at the life of Van Gogh. Think bright, colorful, and loud.

The smallest man Sean Penn has held in his hands

The Descendants
Surprisingly not about balls.

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
A compilation of home movies depicting your grandfather spurting off racist insults and confusing you with your sister.

The Help
A team of psychiatrists check themselves into a mental hospital for help. Meta!

Hugo
He was probably one of the characters from Jim Henson’s Labyrinth. See how Hugo lives his day to day life!

Midnight in Paris
It’s got Owen Wilson, so you can safely assume it also has Ben Stiller and Luke Wilson. Hilarity will ensue!

Moneyball
Also surprisingly not about testicles.

The Tree of Life
Spin off of Pocahontas.

War Horse
Today I found out it’s War Horse, not Warm Whores. My review stands: It’s about a pathetic creature trying to redeem itself, who probably dies in the end.

Kung Fu Panda 2
Surprisingly, this is about balls!

Even his dog is hot

Drive
Out of the 26 films Ryan Gosling was in last year, this was definitely in the top 30. Watch as Ryan Gosling drives a car around a city! What could be better?! (Nothing. Nothing will ever be better than Ryan Gosling doing anything. I would watch the shit out of a movie about Ryan Gosling trimming his nose hairs.)

Bridesmaids
If you’re stupid enough to be reading this, I know that you saw at least 3 movies this year, and this is one of them. You know the plot: Kristen Wiig is the unconvincing ugly and pathetic friend, and Melissa McCarthy shits in a sink. Someone gets married.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
Like Toy Story, but with Tinker Toys!

Just kidding, I didn’t see any of these films. I’m just an asshole. Here is my actually helpful guide to the Oscars:

The Artist
Should have been called: Look at This Fucking Hipster Film
I would have seen it if it was called: Adorable Dog and Sort of Good Looking Man Make Out

The horror of a desperate Oscar grab

The Descendants
Should have been called: George Clooney Cries and Runs in Hawaii
I would have seen it if it was called: The Descendants Starring Ryan Gosling

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
Should have been called: 9/11 Movie That Has Very Little to Do With 9/11
I would have seen it if it was called: Let’s be real, there was no chance I was seeing this

The Help
Should have been called: Sassy Black Maids Kick Some Sass Sassily
I would have seen it if it was called: Emma Stone Looks Ugly, Don’t You Feel Better About Yourself?

Hugo
Should have been called: Look at Scorsese’s Range!
I would have seen it if it was called: The Adventures of Tintin

Midnight in Paris
Should have been called: Woody Allen Strolls Around Paris in an Owen Wilson Costume
I would have seen it if it was called: Midnight in Amsterdam

Moneyball
Should have been called: Brad Pitt Might Finally Win an Oscar
I would have seen it if it was called: Get Jonah Hill to the Oscars

The Tree of Life
Should have been called: Brad Pitt Might Finally Win an Oscar Pt 2
I would have seen it if it was called: Literally anything else more descriptive would have been great

War Horse
Should have been called: Actually War Horse pretty much sums it up
I would have seen it if it was called: Don’t Worry, He Doesn’t Die

Kung Fu Panda 2
Should have been called: Jack Black is as Fat and Funny as a Panda 2
I would have seen it if it was called: Kung Fu Panda 2 Produced By Pixar

Let's be honest: You just wanted to look at more pictures of Ryan Gosling

Drive
Should have been called: Holy Shit Ryan Gosling Looks So Good Driving Around and Curb Stomping People Please Take Your Shirt Off More That’s All I Ask
I would have seen it if it was called: Holy Shit Ryan Gosling Looks So Good Driving Around and Curb Stomping People Please Take Your Shirt Off More That’s All I Ask

Bridesmaids
Should have been called: Girls Can Make the Funnys, Too
I would have seen it if it was called: Kristen Wiig Dies in the End

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
Should have been called: This Movie is Well Over Two Hours Long
I would have seen it if it was called: Jonathan Tinker Taylor Thomas

Just kidding, that was still unhelpful! I’m still an asshole! Thanks for reading!

–Ali Parr