A line-by-line analysis of Danzel’s “Put Your Hands Up In the Air!”

Hey Wildcat’s! It’s the fourth quarter. It’s time to finish! So let’s put your hands up in the air while we try and figure out what the hell this song is about!

Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
Danzel begins his anthem with an imperative. More command than mere request, Wildcat fans are instructed to throw their hands up in the air to start the fourth quarter off right with a communal movement that celebrates the fleeting temporal relationship between a television timeout and the Northwestern secondary’s imminent collapse.

Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
A reiteration of Danzel’s requisition, harkening back to the initial invocation presented to fans through the luminous jumbotron specter at Ryan Field. There are only so many permutations with which one can raise one’s hands up in the air, but such trifles are not of concern to men like Danzel or Kain Colter.

16x: Air
Bridging the gap between the transcendent heavens and the solid gridiron where mortals run the spread is air — surrounding us, within us, throughout us — air, the wind modern man has breathed for longer than approximately 3,174.60 NU bowl droughts. Like Pat Fitzgerald, we return to the essence that begot us with arms open wide to the infinite blue beyond.

Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
God, I could just do this shit all motherfucking day.

Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
Are they flashing WNBA scores up on the scoreboard? Oh wait, that’s just the Indiana final.

Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
Danzel utilizes repetition to depict the subtle interplay between the verticality of your limbs and your levels of ampitude. This is a complex relationship that the 20,000 or so Nebraska fans in the stadium will never quite appreciate.

Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
Were the rights to Taio Cruz’s “Dynamite” really that expensive?

Yo party people come out sayin’ yeah
Party people come out sayin’ yeah
Danzel rapidly changes perspectives, venturing into the mind of party people. Although a bold display of empathy, I have to admit that when party people normally come out to my ragers, they normally say things like “Oh, you were serious about the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory theme?” or “Man, it’s been such a long time since I’ve drank anything cheaper than Sköl!” Maybe Belgian party people just rage a little… differently than we do here.

Feel the vibe
And it’s gettin’ stronger
After setting up his song with repeated exposition viz a viz our hands in the air, Danzel announces his intention to delve into the atmosphere he and his audience have mutually created, expounding upon the aura, or “vibe,” that his beats have created within Ryan Field.

Feel the vibe
And it’s gettin’ stronger
Taken out of context, this line sounds exactly as stupid and/or sexual as it does within the context of this song.

GET THOSE HANDS UP IN THE MOTHERFUCKING AIR!!!

Party people come out sayin’ yeah
Party people come out sayin’ yeah
If any party people have somehow avoided raising there hands up in the air, now is the time for them to come out like a Freshman during Wildcat Welcome Week.

Party people come out, come out..
yo, Dj turn it on
LET’S GO ROUND TWO!!!

Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
Oh God. There are only so many times I can put my hands up in the air… I think my forearms are more sore than Monica Lewinsky’s in the Oval Office. Must. Keep. Getting. Pumped.

Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
A bit of biographical information on Danzel. Born “Johan Waem,” the musician broke out of a perpetual cycle of chocolate addiction in the waffle house slums of Antwerp that plagues so many other young Belgians with his deep passion for house, techno, dance music, and getting you PUMPED for the fourth quarter of football games.

Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
Surprisingly, this song peaked at Number 6 in the UK Dance Charts in 2005 but never garnered much interest anywhere else. How the hell it became an NU tradition is anyone’s guess.

Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
Speaking of which, can something really be a “tradition” if it was instituted less than two years after we elected our current president? Looking at you, March Through the Arch.

[INSTRUMENTAL BREAK]
Danzel takes a quick break from pumping you up, providing ample time for the jumbotron to display pre-meds dancing more awkwardly than Mitt Romney at a RZA show.

Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
What Northwestern lacks in terms of facilities, season-ticket holders, or a pass rushing attack, it more than makes up for with its fan base’s threatening ability to raise its hands up in the air for extended periods of time.

Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
GET SOME, UNIVERSITY OF SOUTH DAKOTA!!! Yippee ki-yay, motherfuckers.

Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
I assume this is also what House Republicans said when they held the government hostage this spring. On an unrelated note: I bet love to see Paul Ryan play running back. The dude makes social welfare cuts quicker than Venric Mark on a kick return.

Put your hands up in the air
Put your hands up in the air
The strength of Danzel’s mantra lies in its specific spatial reference point. The bard is imploring his audience to place their hands — one of the most essential tools of the human body — in the very oxygen we breathe, interweaving the supple protoplasm of man with the zephyrous troposphere that sustains us.

[FADEOUT]
Wildcat fans are led to believe that Danzel’s jam will continue ad nauseam, a never ending ode to the power of triumphantly raising one’s hands in the air into perpetuity in order to raise stokeage levels at Ryan Field to near illegal levels in Evanston.

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ForMITTable Opponents: Rejected Romney Running Mates

Sexxi can I?

After months of vetting potential running mates, presumptive Republican Presidential candidate Mitt Romney has finally selected Paul Ryanas his partner on the G.O.P. ticket. Here are some of the potential nominees who couldn’t quite make it through the Vice Presidential vetting process.

Tony Horton
Like Paul Ryan, Tony Horton is committed to the P90X home fitness program. Unlike Paul Ryan, Tony Horton probably doesn’t want to eliminate all social programs in America that have been enacted since the Hoover administration. Also, between instructing both Usher and Pam the Blam, Tony Horton has worked with more black people than Paul Ryan has ever met in Janesville, Wisconsin.

A Cardboard Cutout of Ronald Reagan
Although deemed to have more personality and charisma than Vice Presidential contender Tim Pawlenty, the cardboard cutout never made it out of the vetting process due to rumors circulating that the 40th President had once been a Democrat. Instead, the Romney campaign intends to use the cutout as a portable beer pong table to be installed in the back of the bus for the “The Romney Plan for How We’ll Gut the Shit out of the Capital Gains Tax a Stronger Middle Class” tour.

Vet this, bitch.

Jesse Pinkman
Originally vetted as a pugnacious businessman who is willing to take on the establishment and appeal to youths nationwide, Pinkman, like Marco Rubio, was brought down by allegations of his connection to organized crime. Also, Mitt’s waiting to watch Season 5 of Breaking Baduntil it comes out on Netflix, and doesn’t want to accidentally overhear any spoilers.

Benjamin Netanyahu
It would be much easier for Romney to Likud Benjamin Netanyahu’s Knesset (if you know what I mean…)* if the Israeli Prime Minister was just a short walk away from the Oval Office. Seeing as Romney and Netanyahu worked together at the Boston Consulting Group in the 1970s, and the leader evokes more respect from Congress than the President of the United States, Netanyahu’s rejection — Article II of the Constitution notwithstanding — was one of the worst defeats in Israeli politics since the breakup of the Tribes of Israel with the death of King Solomon.

Morty Schapiro
Nobody’s quite sure why the Romney campaign passed Morty up, but rumors persist that it had something to do with Morty, a $10,000 bet, and Ann Romney’s horse.

Mitt Romney circa 2004
A moderate Republican willing to compromise with his political opponents in the name of good governance, the Governor of Massachusetts was hampered by his commitment to reform health care and cover virtually all of the uninsured, as well as his willingness to provide basic civil rights to women and homosexuals. The raging gay feminista-socialist Romney, who had the audacity to sign legislation requiring individuals to obtain health insurance, was deemed too radical for a Romney 2012 campaign trying to shore up its conservative image.

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*Bill Clinton sex.

The 5 Least Smangable First Ladies in American History

With no official duties, salary, or elected position, the First Lady of the United States is first and foremost the hostess, or ho-stess, of the White House. Nevertheless, the First Lady of the United States plays an important role in the Executive Branch, handling everything from official ceremonies of state to the Senate Majority Whip, if you know what I mean (looking at you, Lady Bird Johnson). Sometimes, Presidents’ wives will even be entrusted to handle such politically divisive issues as child obesity and literacy, at least when the Vice President is too busy.

Yet for all of America’s Mrs. Presidentress’ accomplishments as powerful women, celebrities, activists, and interlopers, some of the First Ladies in the annals of history were just downright dogs. What follows is the list of the top five First Ladies that not even JFK would bang.*

Florence “The Machine” Harding

5. Florence Harding
Popularly referred to as The Duchess, Florence “Flo Rida” Harding was quoted as saying, “I know what’s best for the President. I put him in the White house. He does well when he listens to me and poorly when he does not.” Although the circumstances of President Harding’s sudden and untimely 1923 death remain unclear, rumor has it that Warren’s balls had been irreparably busted by his wife. That’s what you get, after all, when you ask your wife for some Teapot Dome after a long day of corruption work in the Oval Office.

4. Ida McKinley
What else can you expect from a woman who’s main devotion in life was crocheting slippers? After losing two daughters in childbirth and a devoted husband to an assassination, Ida most certainly was not DTF. The epilepsy didn’t help either.

Not terribly interested in her husband’s “Old Rough and Ready”

3. Margaret Taylor
Described by others as “a fat, motherly looking woman,” Margaret Taylor’s physical appearance wasn’t nearly as bad as her demeanor. After praying for her husband Zachary to lose the Presidential election of 1848, and still smarting from Free Soil candidate Martin Van Buren’s political smear campaign that Zachary Taylor’s wife “Haveth a Total Butterface,” the First Lady spent much of her time cloistered in the second floor of the Presidential mansion, composing erotic fan fiction about the exploits of Whig Senator Daniel Webster. She did, however, once accidentally walk in on Millard Fillmore’s “personal time” in the mural room, an event that subsequently ruined all men for the First Lady.

2. Pat Nixon
Surprisingly, Pat Nixon never really caught on to the whole “deepthroat” thing.

Surprisingly, “Mary Todd Lincoln” is only the third least appropriate name of a First Lady to shout out during coitus.

1. Mary Todd Lincoln
Mary Todd was crazy. Not the good kind of crazy — the kind of crazy that results in Abe trying to explain away how he was found blindfolded and handcuffed to William Seward in the base of the Washington Monument — but rather the “I had to endure a marriage through the most stressful period in American history and witness my husband’s assassination and I buried my son Tad and I’m addicted to chloral hydrate and I think there’s a wandering Jew trying to steal my purse and now I’m pretty sure my son Robert is trying to kill me” kind of crazy. Abe Lincoln may have been the Rail Splitter, but he certainly wasn’t going to tap that any more than necessary.

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*LOL JFK

Why Obama Makes Me Sad

Let me ask you a question. How many of the following have happened since Obama’s election?

1) World peace
2) End of racism/sexism/homophobia/animal cruelty
3) The whales are saved.
4) My dog is as badass as this.

He's killing pirates! What would Jack Sparrow say about that!?

So there we have it: our president, contrary to popular belief, is not a demigod. Oh damn. If there’s anything I dislike about Obama, it’s that his followers seemed to think that following his election, a perfect world would ensue. However, in a perfect world, Rick Perry would be dead and Katy Perry would be granted immortality. So quit slobbing on his knob, because he hasn’t really done much to move us in that direction.

Here’s my first beef with Obama: the guy’s voting record as a Senator basically screams “I Wanna Be President.” The Illinois senate records show that Obama has voted “present” on 130 motions, mostly on controversial issues. Voting “present” is essentially voting “meh,” as a lawmaker. You only say “meh” when you don’t have the energy or clarity to say “No, thank you, I have decided to disagree with the decision being decided.” In a parallel manner, voting “present” means a politician either doesn’t have an opinion or doesn’t want evidence that he has one, because opinions are usually offensive to someone. Having a solidified stance would mean he’d eventually lose voters, and again, the man has had his eyes on the Oval Office longer than Rebecca Black has been alive.

At least nobody has looked sexier while cutting prescription drug costs for medicare by 50%

Number two: Obama is from one of the most corrupt states in the nation. Did anyone question how the man whose record is as spotless as a baby’s ass* somehow gathered votes in the state that produced Blagojevich, Ryan, and the Daley dynasty? Just in case you’re not local, the Land of Lincoln hasn’t had much recent luck electing moral lawmakers. 6 of the last 9 governors are charged with white-collar corruption, and 4 of those were convicted and jailed for it. The most recent villain was caught attempting to ensure that his appointment for Senate seat had something in it for him. I’m not making wild accusations of corruption; I don’t think he’s Blago. I’m saying that Obama passed the healthcare bill like a true Illinois politician: buying the holdout votes with “There’s something in it for you, Nevada and Florida!” Washington, meet pay-to-play politics.

Here’s an excerpt from a recent Facebook status reposted by a friend of mine: “Things my president has done: Got Osama…check. Same wife for 15 years with no extramarital affairs….check. Only active President to receive Nobel Peace Prize while in office…check.” There are several things wrong with this, other than the obvious “please stop drooling and engage your mental cavity.” The first: don’t give him credit for finding Osama. OUR TROOPS DID. Give him credit for the things he’s done — getting minorities out there voting, repealing Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, and buying us a healthcare bill we didn’t want while teaching the country how Illinois does legislation.

But wait, there’s more: he can stay married! Without cheating! Give the man a prize! Speaking of prizes: I should really be past this by now. But Nobel Peace prize????? Didn’t old people use to have to DO shit for that????**

Not even comparable.

And to close: though I enjoy Al Green as much as the next person, I don’t give a rat’s ass if our president is “cute.” I want a president with a pair of balls*** and a goddamn voting record. Preferably the latter. Til then, I’m gonna hold this vote. If I want to interact with a cute older man, I will seek out Liam Neeson and Frank Sinatra. Frankie has a better voice, anyways.

Here’s to bipartisanship.

Brother Jürgen, please say you’ll still love me?

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*Please ponder that metaphor. It was intentional.
**Also, congratulations to the original author of this quote for seriously qualified statements. “Only President to win Nobel Prize? Damn, there were four of those. Only President to do it while in office? Damn, that was three of them! Only President alive who’s won it? Fucking Jimmy Carter! Alright- he’s the only president we have RIGHT NOW who won the Nobel Peace Prize!”
***or, as a forwarded email from my mother instructed, “Balls are weak and sensitive. If you really want to get tough, grow a vagina. Those things take a pounding.”

Special thanks to Blake Wilson, whose Facebook feedback comparing Sherman Ave to the gastrointestinal contents at the end of the Human Centipede struck the perfect balance between offensive and motivating. Blake, don’t off yourself because of internet shenanigans; we’re still mourning Phoebe Black.

Bitches at Airports: A True Story Rant

What exactly do full body scans entail?

Now, I’m not one to get pissed over travel. I don’t mind long car rides and I don’t mind airplanes. It’s merely transportation, a service to get you from one point to another. However, in light of all the students leaving the comfortable abides of their 80-square-foot dorm rooms and returning home soon, it’s not out of reason to expect some bumps in the road. But God (and Rick Perry) knows that there’s something wrong with America when you encounter all of these at once.

1. The Forgotten Wallet
You somehow get stuck behind the shithole that forgot their wallet. Last time I checked, having your goddamn money and your goddamn ID card and your goddamn nonfat skinny double shot cherry chapstick was an important thing. So maybe you shouldn’t switch from the raggedy hippy knit satchel thing you wear around campus to promote green living to that let’s-kill-all-the-animals Dooney & Bourke purse that could’ve paid Theta Chi’s dues for the year, you hypocritical, smarmy fuck. I’m just sayin’.

2. You get behind the fashionista in security.
Sure, you want to look nice, or even sexy (see above paragraph on bag selection). That does not give you a single reason to wear all of that jewelry! I’m pretty sure Jenna Marbles said it quite clearly in a recent video, “Who the fuck are you trying to impress!?” I’m not gonna see your P90X ass ever again, and girl, if you’re doing that shit, you need to realize that a guy doesn’t wanna have the same testosterone levels as you. Otherwise shake off the mountains of bangles and bracelets and rings and toe-rings and anklets and earring and noserings and watches and necklaces and chokers and belts and fuck-fuck-fucks you have laying around your gelatinous body! PUT ON SOME MAKEUP INSTEAD, IT DOESN’T SLOW DOWN THE GODDAMN LINE. Seriously, some of you looked like you were heading to MIA’s wedding shoot.

3. You’re on either the overstuffed plane…
And you’ll probably get the average person sitting next to you, but Jesus this shit will be uncomfortable. No one wants to feel like they’re a layer of apples in your Meemaw’s famous pie. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been folded over and under like some puff pastry under these old people. Thank God I check myself in early so I can pick an aisle or window seat. You’ll also get your fair share of screaming children and pissed of menopausal hostesses.

Does it count as the mile high club

4. Or the terribly empty plane
THIS IS THE WORST ONE. Because god knows, this is the one that those irritable passengers take. “I don’t like flying” is NOT an excuse to FLY ON A FREAKING AIRPLANE WITH ME. These are the people that get worked up and stressed out over every single thing and will not extract their pound of flesh from your innocent face. Even Ryan Murphy’s reprehensible excuse for a show Nip/Tuck couldn’t fix that. Not to mention, this is the flight for those annoying off-duty crew members to take.

Which reminds me of a story.

So I’m already stressed because I got stuck behind a fashionista, but I’ve calmed down with my two hours of gate wait time and a frap from Starbucks (sorry, I’m a pretentious fuck). We board the airplane and there’s this old man that notices practically no one is on the plane. He sits in front of me, which is actually the beginning of the economy plus seating or some shit. Who comes by? The asshole Off-Duty crew members. A pilot and his wife. They practically shove the old, octagenarian man out of the seat and tell him if he wants to sit there, he’ll have to pay more. So he has to sit in his assigned seat, two over from me. Ok. I’m chill. He’s a nice guy and keeps to himself. So I sit in my seat in such a way that I prop my foot up on the back curves of the armrest in front of me. There’s absolutely no way the other person can feel it, and I’ve never had a problem. Until this dickbagel shoves his elbow as far back as he can and bumps my foot. He immediately turns around as I’m reading that ridiculousness called SkyMall and goes, “Excuse me. Take your nasty foot off the armrest.” EXCUSE ME?! NASTY? Could have left that part out man. I have nice feet. My response? “Um… It’s on my side, and it’s not hurting you. But whatever.” And I take my foot off. A few minutes later, my foot wanders back up, because you know, they’re nasty, which clearly means that they’re rebellious and belligerent. He turns around again, but then his wife speaks, “If you do that one more time, I’m going to call the attendant. Take your feet off.” YOU ARE OFF DUTY BITCH, YOU ARE A SAD RECENTLY BOTOX’D WASPY CUNTMUFFIN. TAKE YOUR NASTY COLLAGEN LIPS AND PUT THEM ON A SEVEN DOLLAR VODKA CRANBERRY AND OUT OF MY EAR.

Needless to say, my legs were very uncomfortable for the rest of the flight. Which naturally brings us to:

Handle with care

5. You get the asshole baghandlers.
These guys will ruin every day you have after this flight for the rest your life. Did you really like your matched set of luggage? Did you pay that heinous extra to get Louis Vuitton? Is your life precedent on the careful handling of that unknown designer label garment bag? Well, maybe we should occupy your 1% ass, but afterwards console you, because those baghandlers will get to you first. They’ll scuff it up, burn the side, get tar and grease everywhere and then toss your luggage on the line like Clinton tossed Lewinsky on the Oval Office desk.

All in all, maybe you should just drive yourself to your destination. I hear gas is cheap.