My eyes widen, and a patriotic spark awakens
My senses, as though of Coca-Cola I had drunk,
Or inhaled a Big-Mac with four slices of bacon.
One minute passed, and then these words I had thunk:
“Tis not through hatred of the ugly lot,
but being too happy in thy ugliness,-
That thou, star-spangled cardigan of wool,
In some melodious plot
Of patchwork art, and flags numberless (aka 2),
Singest of America the beautiful.
Pictured: Daley, who is unimaginably attracted to both men and women, despite the fact that all of his best friends have rock hard abs just like those. (via policymic.org)
LONDON — The world was shocked today to learn that Tom Daley, a British athlete who spends almost all of his time wearing a speedo and doing various physical activities with other men wearing speedos, is sexually attracted to men.
Daley made the announcement by video, revealing to the world that he has a boyfriend — surprising, considering that the sport for which Daley has become famous has a uniform that reveals so much shaft that one can often discern whether the competitor is circumcised. Continue reading
Dr. Carter, whose breath has already begun to fog in anticipation of the Skeet Trip’s climate.
NEW ORLEANS — According to a press release from Birdman Jr.’s head of public relations, Dwayne Michael Carter, Jr., known by his stage name Lil Wayne, spent his Friday afternoon enthusiastically making final preparations for his 12th Annual Skeet Trip.
Scheduled for December 15 through the 21st, the Skeet Trip is the largest rapper-organized Skeet Trip in the country. Under the direction of Lil Wayne, Lil John, The East Side Boyz, and the Ying Yang Twins, the Skeet Trip has evolved from a weekend trip to blow off some steam and enjoy the company of choice biddies to a weeklong skeeting bonanza in Park City, Utah. The group of rappers and hip hop artists continues to run the highly anticipated skeet trip at the end of every winter break, making it one of the largest lyricist-run-man-juice-ejaculation excursions in the nation (excluding, of course, the Grammy Awards).
You’ve devoted your whole life to the game. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. Winning gold is the only thing that could ever matter. You cannot fail. You will not fail. Except that, like, you failed. And now you’re stuck with silver.
That’s the plight that at least half of Olympians probably face at the conclusion of their event (sorrz guyz, I’m absolutely NOT doing any research for this). But that’s not why they all look so tickered on the medal stand. No, no. They have much better reasons than that! So, with a big old hat tip to this post from Yahoo! we proudly present the real reasons that silver medalists* have had such sour faces on the medal stand:
American McKayla Maroney.
Russian Victoria Komova.
China’s Ning Ding.
Brit Christine Ohuruogu.
Belarussian Aliaksandra Herasimenia.
American 4×100 free relay.
*Note: These are legit all silver medalists either right after winning silver losing gold or on the podium.
Dear Friends,
He at least could have shaved his armpits
On April 21st, I saw something I was not supposed to see. As I was walking through the frat quad to purchase some hummus at Lisa’s, a high-pitched noise befell upon my ears. As I furtively peeped in the windows of the offending house to find out what it was, I saw inside some dress-up games being played by a group of male Northwestern students. I later learned that this was a strip poker tournament, which typically involves groups of men using their poker skills and the game’s rules to induce the clothing removal of somewhat intoxicated women.
But what I saw Saturday afternoon was really just the “Sexist Poker Tournament.” In this house were at least 50 students, all representing some demographic of women. There were sexy housemaids, sexy flappers, sexy hippies, sexy pirate lasses, sexy nurses, sexy Disney princesses, sexy pioneers, and one feeble attempt to emulate Mila Kunis in Black Swan. There were so many sexually appealing women in that room that I considered dropping my skirt to make a “sexy nudist” costume, crashing in, and being a lesbian for the night. Then I remembered that this was a fraternity and there was a small floppy penis underneath Mila’s tutu.
This idea sounds.... intriguing.
The sickening noise I had heard came from several Katy Perry impersonators who were attempting a rendition of “The One That Got Away,” which unintentionally borrowed elements from a 12-tone piece by Schoenberg that I think I once heard in a foreign horror film. All of the students were dressed up in short skirts, high heels, makeup, excessively padded bras, sequins, glitter, and other stereotypical female garb (the overwhelming majority of women do not wear any of these on a regular basis, but rather legging-pants and a DM t-shirt). The annoying squeals of delight, the sexualizing of sluts at the expense of normal women everywhere, and the sheer number of applications of the word “adorbz” was sickening and traumatizing. This is a brutal incident that has imposed upon the various female communities on campus. This was an act of violence.
The fraternity cannot be identified at the moment due to privacy issues, but they have issued this statement:
“Religion and race have been an issue this quarter, but nobody’s done anything controversial involving gender. We wanted to give everyone an equal opportunity to be offended.”
In other news, Sigma Phi has announced that their next fundraiser will support the Women’s Center.
The true spirit of global athletic competition is these supple asscheeks.
Memories of the Olympics are some of the fondest I have. It’s that wonderful time every other year when I can have absolutely no shame in ruthlessly bashing every other nation in the world, when even the local townspeople don’t seem to mind me painting an American flag on my chest and doing naked jumping jacks in public parks. I think of the Summer Olympics not as an event, but as an atmosphere; I think of warm summer evenings, around-the-clock media coverage, and an incalculable quantity of hateful remarks made toward every other country competing in the Olympics. And when they’re over, the all-encompassing feeling of satisfaction is blended with a growing emptiness, yearning for another platform for unbridled nationalism that doesn’t have to wait until the next Olympics.
However, this utopic three-week period has been put in jeopardy. A new rule passed by the FIVB – which stands either for Fédération Internationale de Volleyball or Fucking Insolent and Villainous Ballsackguzzlers, I’m not entirely sure – has eliminated the requirement that all female beach volleyball players wear bikinis. I REPEAT. THEY DON’T HAVE TO WEAR BIKINIS ANYMORE.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Needless to say, this is an absolute travesty. Accordingly, I declare a call to action. We must boycott the 2012 Summer Olympics. These hookermaniacs over at FIVB must know that their authoritarian assholatry will not be tolerated. If you have any concern about preserving the age-old tradition of simultaneously being sexually and patriotically aroused, it is your duty to boycott, and more importantly, spread the word. Use the hashtag #boycott2012 to make this egregious crime known to the Twitterverse. Share this article on Facebook.
If we garner the support of all those who do truly care and take action for what we know is right, we can bring about change and make history. #boycott2012
First of all, I apologize in advance for the inevitably scatter-brained nature of this post. I’m a bit emotional right now, and I also have class in 45 minutes. Mostly it’s the emotions. I haven’t been this emotional since the United States won the Olympics always. So I suppose I’ll start this solemn reflection by thinking about today’s events.
It was about 2:20pm on a surprisingly warm Monday afternoon when I found out that The Keg had its liquor license revoked. At first, I didn’t really want to believe it; could this really happen? Do we really live in a world where institutions who blatantly serve alcohol to minors receive retribution for their actions? I immediately was overcome with an all-encompassing sense of crushing sadness, and a vast emptiness set in my stomach. It was like the first time I watched Bambi’s mom get shot, but instead of some stupid fucking mammal falling victim to Darwinism, it was something much worse. You see, it was much more than The Keg’s liquor license that was revoked today. The hopes and dreams of an entire generation were also revoked.
Sherman Ave 