An open letter to the Northwestern Kid who Just Didn’t Get Involved Enough

Happiness Club does NOT count

Dear Northwestern Kid Who Just Didn’t Get Involved Enough,

Let’s face it.  Every single person at this university is way busier than you, and everyone knows it. Uninvolved Kid, your lack of extracurricular involvement within Northwestern is like a giant dildo on the floor of a nursing home. We all know it’s there, but we really, really don’t want to bring it up.

Remember how you sobbed after realizing how fucking fat and lazy you’ve gotten since high school? How you dripped tears and snot onto your iPhone and Siri was like “whoa, this kid needs his mom” and called her for you? And how your faithful mom, who has been glued to her phone ever since that one time you rang her up about barfing in the BK lounge AGAIN, answered your moaning self-denigration with a “Honey! Of course that’s not true. You’re my little rainbow! Why, I bet everyone at your smart college thinks about themselves the same way.”

The Sherman Ave 2012 VP Debate Drinking Game

If you have the wild misfortunate of following The Ave on Twitter, you may have noticed that we enjoy the presidential debates. There’s nothing that livens a weekday night up more than seeing Jim Lehrer bound and gagged in his chair while Mitt Romney beats one of The Poors with a sock full of gold bricks and Barack Obama pukes up on himself.

So when we heard there was another debate this week, we were thrilled. “Golly gee,” we though, in our best Tagg Romney impersonation, “what a swell chance this shall be to hear two esteemed gentlemen engage in the art of intellectual disagreement.”

Then we heard Joe Biden was involved.

Power hour if they make out.

It turns out that Thursday night’s debate is the VICE presidential debate. Never to be dismayed, we excitedly began waiting for Sarah Palin to wink at us in that special blend of “come hither” and “come any closer and I’ll shoot you from a helicopter” that only she can manage. Once again, we were brutally disappointed to discover that some bloke named Paul Ryan will be giggling at Uncle Joe instead.

See, apparently the GOP candidates is NOT required to pick Palin for veep after all! (Crazy, right?! Slike, why did Mack-daddy even acknowledge her heinousness then?) Our excitement thoroughly destroyed, we turned to America’s most favorite and least advisable coping mechanism: drank.

Sherman Ave is proud* to present the 2012 Vice Presidential Debate Drinking Game:

Take a sip if…

When he heard the debate would be on ABC, Paul Ryan thought it meant a different “ABC”

• Paul Ryan discusses Medicare or entitlements (that means Social Security or Medicaid too, you fucking engineers).
• Joe Biden mentions his upbringing (that means childhood, you goddamn pre-meds).
• Moderator Martha Raddatz manages to effectively end discussion of a topic when time expires ONE FUCKING TIME.
• Biden gives Obama credit for the fact that GM is alive but Osama bin Laden is now one of the dead people.
• Paul Ryan blatantly contradicts himself (that means on the Simpson-Bowles debt commission plan, saving $716 billion in Medicare from overhead costs, rape exceptions on abortion, or like half of the shit Mitt Romney says he kind of supports but might not if other people don’t like it).
• Biden says “consecutive months of job growth,” “5.1 million new jobs,” or “7.8% unemployment.”
• Ryan says “fiscal responsibility,” “failure” or “Nancy Pelosi.” Three sips if he cannot bring himself to say Pelosi’s name.
• Biden forgets someone’s name, gets a date wrong, doesn’t realize he was asked a question, asks Ryan to get him some coffee, makes a joke about “a cup of Joe for Joe” after he asks Ryan for coffee, asks if he’s president yet, or reverts to talking about his wife because he can’t remember what the question was.

Take a gulp if…

• The moderator challenges Ryan to substantiate a claim.
• Ryan leaves Biden crying on his podium and asking if he may leave now.
• Biden forgets to wear a shirt.
• Ryan “forgets” to wear a shirt and starts rubbing his abs at the camera.
• Biden openly flirts with Raddatz.
• Ryan name drops Janesville, Wisconsin.
• Biden name drops Scranton, Pennsylvania.
• Biden and Ryan have a fistfight over whose blue-collar upbringing was tougher.
• Ryan mentions Ayn Rand.
• Biden says “you were a lot more ladylike in our last debate.”
• Ryan uses words that Biden doesn’t understand.
• Ryan says the middle class has been “buried” the last four years. Two gulps if he credits Biden with coming up with the line.
• Either candidate uses a clearly pre-prepared zinger.

Finish your drink if…

Big Bird jokes are NEVER gonna get old, rite??

• Obama comes onstage to redeem himself.
• Bill Clinton comes onstage and euthanizes Biden.
• Ryan announces his 2016 candidacy.
• Biden points out that it was rude of Ryan not to ask if he could call him Joe.
• Ryan messes up an answer and just yells, “Yeah, well this bitch invited Obama to her wedding she probably like loves him or something I bet she kept an old Kleenex of his and is gonna do some weird African voodoo on it to make him like her.” Word for word.
• Big Bird eats Ryan alive on national television.
• The handshake at the end of the debate lasts more than 3.5 seconds.

*Horrified, ashamed and embarrassed.

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Love a Random State: Ohio

I may be a tad bit biased, but Ohio is a pretty badass state. We fuck up pretty much every Presidential Election. We can’t make decisions on anything from street cars to abortion. We are some waffling motherfuckers, and I’m not talking about McGriddles. Besides being a political asshole, here are some other reasons you should bow down and worship my state of conception/birth/childhood.

The beautiful metropolis of Cleveland

1. Ohio is the 7th largest state by population.
Cincinnati is the 61st largest city in the nation by population.* Being mediocrely medium-sized takes all the pressure off being big. We may not have the hustle and bustle of New York or the flotsam and jetsam of Chicago, but we sure do have a lot of wide open spaces and corn. This makes for some great middle school field trips, like visiting an Amish farm and learning how to properly milk a cow or taking a spin on a tea-cup-death-trap-vomit-inducing ride while eating a stick of deep-fried butter at the local carnival.

2. Subpar athletics.
I may not be an expert when it comes to sports. I didn’t vehemently protest the NBA lockout, I do not worship Tebow born from the Virgin Mother, nor do I have any vague inkling as to what Royal Shrovetide Football is really all about. However, I do know one thing: If the Cincinnati Bengals were running in the Republican primaries, they would rank somewhere above Michelle Bachmann and somewhat below Stephen Colbert. They may suck at football and politics, but the Bengals have quite a record off the field. Since 2000, the team has a combined criminal record of 30 arrests, 8 DUIs, and 1 charge of “boating under the influence.”** I’m not really sure how this makes Ohio awesomely badass, but it does.

3. Larger than life Presidents.
We produced President William Howard Taft, the man who couldn’t fit in a normal bathtub. In fact, a bathtub fit for four men was installed in the White House just for him. I bet VP James Sherman had a pretty good time in there, seeing as he was a normal sized man. (That leaves room for three more people, for those of you who are still in Math 110).

O-hi-OH!!!!

4. Ohio is beautiful.
OK, maybe just Halle Berry is. Halle Berry was Miss Ohio 1986. At 19, Halle managed to lock down a state title and first runner-up for the Miss USA pageant. Pretty badass, Ms. Berry.

5. Badass motherfuckers in office.
Jerry Springer, host of The Jerry Springer Show, served on Cincinnati’s city council for three years, before resigning when Jerry’s favorite hang-out was revealed: a Kentucky “massage parlor.”*** But it only gets better: he paid his “masseuse” with a city check. It doesn’t get much classier than that. He was then elected the mayor of Cincinnati from 1977-1978. We obviously know how to choose effective leaders.

6. In Ohio, it is illegal to get a fish drunk.****
Need I say more?

7. Where art thou, Ohio?
There actually aren’t many NU students from Ohio. There should certainly be more Amish, chili-loving, politically frustrated, Midwesterners up in Northwestern’s business. However, this makes for some great feedback. Apparently, Californians have no fucking clue where Ohio is. My roommate thought it was near Iowa and her friend could swear she thought it was south of Illinois. I guess they don’t teach Geography in the Bay Area. As a loyal Ohioan and a college student with half my brain still intact despite raging alcoholism and mind numbing, drug-induced Sporcle competitions, I know exactly where Ohio is: right between New Mexico and Arizona. Right?

8. Home of Skyline Chili.
Although none of you Northside Prep trust-fund babies or LTHS fanboys have heard of Skyline, enlighten yourselves. Cincinnati’s definition of chili: chocolate (yes, chocolate) ground beef soup poured over spaghetti noodles and topped with neon yellow, synthesized, shredded cheddar cheese. Mouth-o-meter: fucking delicious.

9. Hipsterz.
Searching for the inner-sanctum of hipsterism? Look no further. Clifton, a small neighborhood on the outskirts of downtown Cincinnati, is a hub of culture and excitement. 98% of Clifton residents are Democrat, making us some badass, Obama loving hippies. 98% of us also love Indian food. Why? There are 7 locally owned Indian restaurants in Clifton. Step outside my house and take a good whiff of Saag Paneer and Chicken Curry. Yum. You can always find a homeless town troubadour belting out his love life with the aid of his trusty accordion. Besides musicians, we are also home to many other badass personalities, such as the mysterious bag man who, although he appears to be homeless, goes to the grocery store every day and picks up 3 lemons, a loaf of bread, and a bag of kitty litter. Meth lab, anyone? There is also the penguin man who yells at cars going over 25, the local business owners who all seem to be tangled in a Romeo and Juliet-esque love affair, and my personal favorite, the middle school drug dealers who hang out at the shelter in Burnet Woods after school. (Whoops, did I just blow your cover?)

Take a trip back in time

10. We have one of the largest Amish populations in the country.
Amish people are badass. Love the Amish, and eat their chicken; it’s free-range!

Needless to say, Ohio is a badass state. If this article has convinced you to pack up your Illinois life (or wherever the fuck you’re from) and move to Ohio, call my step dad. He’s a realtor.

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*Sporcle. Yeah, I did it. I used Sporcle as a source. Try to censor that, PIPA.
**NKY Sports World
***Massage parlor = brothel
****Twitter