Morty Sings Jason Derulo

Ever wanna hear Northwestern President Morton O. Schapiro sing Talk Dirty?  Well, now you can.  Yes this is real.

WTF is going on with Alison Gold’s ‘Chinese Food’ music video

0-0:11 I CAN’T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU’RE SAYING. I THINK IT’S SOMETHING ABOUT NOODLES.

0:12-0:15 omg the noodles gave birth to a rainbow

Flo Rida and Pitbull’s “Can’t Believe It,” As Narrated by Obi-Wan Kenobi

It was bound to happen. After years of systematically working their way into every song that could possibly be on the radio and simultaneously amassing both millions of haters and many more millions of dollars, rappers/human equivalents of lighting a cigar with a $100-dollar bill Flo Rida and Pitbull have finally teamed up with “Can’t Believe It,” a modern ripoff, err, ode, to Sir Mix-A-Lot’s iconic “Baby Got Back.”

It’s Thanksgiving: The Nicole Westbrook Story

It was a dark August night in the Westbrook household. Nicole was left with a burden she could not explain. Standing on the front deck, she contemplated all the memories she had had with her family inside. The December Christmases, where she would be denied no gift that she truly wanted. The January New Years’s, when her parents would let her throw parties the whole grade would be invited to. The April Easters, when the living room would flow with candy as she walked down from her bedroom. Most importantly, the Fourth of July pool parties that were talked about months in advance.

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.

For more hard-hitting analysis, LIKE OUR FACEBOOK PAGE!

Other Things David Stern Should Veto

The most hated white man in the league since Toni Kukoc

When sports journalists heard about the NBA Commissioner’s probably ill-advised decision to veto a trade that would’ve sent New Orleans point guard Chris Paul to the Lakers, they practically pooped themselves with rage, railing about the end of the NBA with an apocalyptic despair that would’ve made Harold Camping proud. When I heard about the NBA’s decision, all I could think about was the goodness that could be accomplished by extending David Stern’s veto power, trigger-happy finger, and ‘screw it, I don’t care if I ruin the seasons of three teams’ attitude into other walks of life. Here are the fruits of that aforementioned thinking:

1. Rick Perry’s Presidential Campaign
Here at Sherman Ave we love Rick Perry. Oh wait, no we fucking don’t. No one in their right minds could ever stand to be in the same room, much less vote for, that intolerable shitmuffin. It now seems utterly ridiculous that people as intelligent as Mike Murphy actually thought that Perry could win the Republican nomination. Well, they were about as wrong as Custer’s last words. If only David Stern had stepped forward in August to stop this embarrassing shitshow of a campaign from ever launching.

His dreams were crushed by David Stern. M. Night Shyamalan's should be, too.

2. M. Night Shyamalan’s ability to make movies
So The Sixth Sense was maybe kind of okay. But I dare anyone to make it through The Happening without puking in a biological attempt to reject the atrocity from staying with you. Shyamalan made only one or two movies that could ever be considered ‘good,’ and everything since then has been so unbearably atrocious that Shaymalan should be prevented from ever tainting our eyes with such heinousness again. Unfortunately, the good people at Disney (and by “good people” I of course mean “stupid fucktards”) just keep signing off on his movies. Let’s get Stern in there to crush them the way he crushed Chris Paul’s dreams.

3. No Shave November
I’ll be honest, this year I tried doing No Shave November for the entire month, to see once and for all if I could really grow a beard. I can’t. And I’ve got news for everyone else who has tried it: you can’t either. You do look like an atrocious hobo, though. Congrats. Scumbag Steve would be horrified by your hygiene. Now let’s please agree to never do No Shave November again.

4. New Rebecca Black songs

Rosa Parks' personal hero

Katy Perry has no regrets — only love — about going all the way tonight. I have the same feelings about Rebecca Black’s “Friday.” Yes, it’s horrible, and yes, it probably shouldn’t exist, and yes, it speaks to some very heinous problems at the base of our modern society, but god damn is it funny. I’m glad it exists, and those two weeks where everyone in America absolutely refused to talk about anything else were just awesome. I feel bad for the hypothetical children I may or may not give birth to in the future because they will never have the experience of waiting at midnight for the release of Harry Potter books or movies, and I feel bad for them because they will never have the experience of going to school on March 18, 2011 (the Friday after the song came out) when everyone everywhere was singing “It’s Friday, Friday, GOTTA GET DOWN ON FRIDAY.” For two weeks it was fun to laugh, at the insipid songwriting, at the random rap verse that doesn’t make sense, at the problems with modern celebrity culture, but then those two weeks were over and we all moved on. DIDN’T WE?????

Apparently not. Apparently the ARK Music Factory thought that when 268,000 people disliked the “Friday” video, that meant “we love this, give us more please.” I hate to be the one to break this to you, Patrice Wilson, but when 268,000 people disliked the “Friday” video, it means they didn’t like it. At first, Rebecca Black was sad and kind of funny. Now she’s just sad.

5. Bill O’Reilly’s book about Lincoln
The only thing more ridiculous than the sentence “Bill O’Reilly wrote a book about the Lincoln assassination” is the sentence “Bill O’Reilly wrote a book about the Lincoln assassination that wasn’t true.” Yes. We live in a fucked up world. And while I think we have all accustomed ourselves to Fox News’s ridiculous excuse for news coverage, we don’t need them fucking up history as well. That’s Ross Packingham’s favorite subject!

6. “Ultimatum” by Jeph Loeb
If you’re a normal person, then it probably doesn’t mean anything to you when I say that Jeph Loeb fucked up the Ultimate Universe, but he did, and it is an intolerable atrocity.

Something doesn't seem right...

Quick nut graf: shortly after the dawn of the new millennium, Marvel Comics attempted to reinvigorate interest in their brand by creating an offshoot label, dubbed the Ultimate Universe, where they relaunched characters like Spider-Man and the X-Men as if their 40 year history didn’t exist, and the characters had been created in the year 2000. It worked. The stories were great, and their modern reworking of occasionally anachronistic Sixties concepts had a huge influence on Marvel’s later movie adaptations.

But in the year 2008, Marvel executives handed the creative reins of the Ultimate Universe to Jeph Loeb. It seemed like a sensible decision, as Loeb had won acclaim writing Batman at DC Comics. But whereas Loeb had done well on Batman with a strategy of utilizing Batman’s colorful cast and intriguing antihero sensibility, his plan for Ultimate Marvel was a little more like “destroy everything and kill every character.” His miniseries “Ultimatum” was basically a giant shit all over the Ultimate Universe, whose comics had helped spike my interest in the medium and which I still give to people who mention an interest in comic books, and I can no more forgive him for that than Eddie Murphy can forgive SNL for making one joke about him once.

And most importantly…

My First Quarter Grades
More important than any of the other things combined. I must admit, I got so caught up in college heinousness this quarter that I didn’t exactly get Will Hunting grades. Sure, it’s not like I stayed up past 2 am sequestered in the library every night of reading week preparing for my Ancient Philosophy final, but if Stern could have some words with Morty re: my grades, that would be dandier than Sebastian Flyte.

If that isn’t a convincing reason for giving David Stern a time machine and being done with it, I don’t know what is.