20 Things Northwestern Could Do with $10,000

(via nusports.com)

Northwestern University recently sent out an email with the five ideas proposed for the ASG 10K initiative, a program that gives the student body an opportunity to invest $10,000 to improve life around campus. However, I, the esteemed Reverend Turlington, frankly don’t like any of the ideas very much at all. $10,000 on Christmas lights? Come on. Here are 20 better things NU could do with $10,000:

1. Offer live entertainment in the dining halls
2. Construct a statue of Frances Willard
3. Found a

An Open Letter to the Northwestern Class of 2018

AHHHHHHYEAAAAAAYYYYY YOU’RE GOING TO NERDWESTERN NORTHWESTERN NORTHWASTED !!!!!

Congratulations. Sincerely. You took 7 or 8 AP exams and scored somewhere 33+ on your ACT* You wrestled away your school’s student presidency from that fucking bitch Katie Taylor and you sacrificed a healthy sleep schedule for that batch of A pluses.

And now,

It’s all paid off.

OSU Head Coach Urban Meyer’s Facebook Status This Morning

 

 

 

This is fake plz don’t sue us.

 

ASG Concerned About What Students Want for First Time in 12 Months

The three circles represent interlocking constituencies of ineffectiveness.

EVANSTON–In a surprising turn of events, the Northwestern Associated Student Government–the same organization who brought you great ideas like the “Let’s Get A Willie the Wildcat Statue” Initiative and the “Hey Guys, Remember That One Time We Actually Did Something?” campaign–has now developed a sense of concern and regard for the opinions of the Northwestern student body.

This roundabout represents a quick change in heart for ASG which, as recently as several weeks ago, told the Northwestern student body that only five-thousand dollars of the 10K initiative could go towards projects the students cared about because “Nobody cares about you! That’s why.”

MIT student: “Northwestern Hot” is Really, Really Hot

Anderson, immediately prior to engaging Sullivan in a conversation on the development of integral calculus.

EVANSTON — An MIT student visiting his high school friend here in Evanston has noted that “Northwestern hot is really, really hot.”

Tony Anderson, a native of Joliet, Illinois studying engineering at MIT, spent most of his night attempting to score with lines such as, “Quaecumque sunt very very horny,” and “I’ll show you my Willie the Wildcat if you show me your Tim the Beaver.”

“He was kind of cute,” said eyewitness and potential love interest Jennie Sullivan. “He knew all the Korean lyrics to Gangnam style as well as the ‘Eyyy sexy laday,’ which was pretty cool. I just wish he’d broken eye contact. It was like the opposite of walking down Sheridan.”

5 Ways Northwestern Could Spend Ten Thousand Dollars

Vodka fountains. Think about it.

Last week, the Northwestern Associated Student Government released its four options for the possible recipients of the 10K Initiative funds. The information was met with one over-whelming response: ASG is allowed to do actual things? I thought they were just people who were really enthusiastic about writing their names in chalk across campus. And honestly, we here at Sherman Ave feel that buying ten-thousand dollars worth of chalk would have been a better investment of their money. However, instead of criticizing ASG, we thought it best to propose some other ways the 10K Initiative Funds could be spent.

Here are the top five ideas our staff came up with:

1. Helping the Keg Renew Its Lease
As all of you have probably heard, the City of Evanston and the anti-fun police have declared that they will be closing one of Northwestern’s top facilities: The Keg of Evanston. However, there is one thing that could change their minds: ten thousand dollars. While we understand the Keg’s lease is likely expensive due to the fact that it must own enough property to accommodate one quarter of the Evanston Township High School student body on a daily basis, we believe ten thousand dollars would be sufficient to keep the institution running until Mayor Tisdahl is called back to service at the nunnery.

Besides closing The Keg, what else has Mayor Tisdahl achieved?

At this afternoon’s Political Union in the Northwestern University Norris Center, Evanston mayor Elizabeth “Lizzly the Grizzly” Tisdahl claimed that “closing down The Keg was one of the best things [she had] ever done.”  Needless to say, this inflammatory statement is an affront to any Northwestern student who has enjoyed an otherwise uneventful Monday night at The Keg – let alone the ETHS students who don’t even have other viable outlets to hone their raging skills.  This is the equivalent to Jimmy Carter taking proud ownership of the Iranian Hostage Crisis, or Creed taking proud ownership of their music.  It also begs the question: If this is only one of the best things E-Tizzy has accomplished, then what would she consider to be some of the others?

Sherman Ave Freshman Guide: How to Attend Class

In the vast reaches of time preceding your arrival to Northwestern Heinousversity, your mind is probably racing with questions.  What is it like living in a dorm?  How will the food be?  How long is it appropriate to know someone before showing him or her my third nipple?   What about my fourth one?   With so many concerns about adapting to the college lifestyle, you may be forgetting about one minor detail of attending Northwestern: the classes.  But don’t worry – we are here to answer your questions about how to effectively have the learning times.

Meet Northwestern’s New Director of Sustainability

The man below is Rob Whittier.

Dude’s hotter than a melting iceberg.

Not only a beautiful specimen of a man, Rob “Gorgeous as Fuck” Whittier is also hellbent on making this campus as green as possible, no matter how many empty cans of Busch Light he has to recycle with those rippling muscles or carbons he has to neutralize with that stunning smile.

Now, we could have put in the time and effort to write up an article detailing his sexxxy exploits reducing Northwestern’s energy consumption and whatnot, but it was much easier and enjoyable to just meme his ass during our lunch break.

Like my love for you, plastics are forever

Or by hemp-scented candlelight.

And then I’d like to bag you.

Courtesy of Gwyneth Effingmouth

Another G-Eff’s masterpiece

I feel so safe in your arms. And in your carbon-neutral house.

Many thanks to Simba Ng and for the tipoff. Feel free to send all submissions of your own Rob Whittier memes to shermanave1@gmail.com, which shall be promptly displayed on our fancy-shmancy Facebook page.

50 Shades of Purple, Chapter Two: The Battle for the Keg

“At first I was like, ‘You know, it might not be such a great idea to go skinny dipping in the Amazon with a bottle of Patron and the entire San Diego Chargers Charger Girls squad,’ but then I was just like, ‘YOLO.'”
-Morton O. Schapiro

Don’t worry, the sex scene’s coming soon.

It’s a Monday evening, and my roommates are pregaming the pregame for the Keg. I’ve had a pretty stressful day in Journalism 301, filled with lots of hard-hitting pestering of innocent yuppies reporting for my enterprise story, and it’s time for me to kick back and relax. I pop a bottle of Peach Andre and my night has begun.

“How was your interview with Ross Packingham?” asks Beverly Brooke, my roommate and consummate frenemy.

“Intriguing. There’s something secretive about him that I can’t figure out. Is it true he once had a threesome with a Theta and Willie the Wildcat in the library stacks?”

“I heard it was with Stephen Colbert and two theater majors on South Beach while Andrew Bird played in the background,” Beave answers, “But that’s just what I read once on College ACB.”

We finish off our bottles of Andre while watching Say Yes to the Dress and head over to Alpha Delta for the true pregame. The second we step into the basement, our senses are assaulted by skunked beer, bros in tank-tops, and Katy Perry. Lots of Katy Perry.

“WOOOOOOOOOO” shouts Beave as “Teenage Dream” comes on, and immediately begs a frat brother who looks suspiciously similar to an Asian Nic Cage (and almost as belligerent) to let her take a beer pong celeb shot.

I leave to get myself a drink. I pour myself some Mohawk vodka into a solo cup of Busch Light, which I affectionately dub ‘The Bobb,’ because the drink’s always a party and smells like piss.

The Alpha Delta brothers are getting rowdy. Some jackass tries to hit on me by asking which Vice President I’m most sexually attracted to, only to leave the next moment muttering to himself about the similarities between House Republicans and gonorrhea.

“KEG! KEG! KEG!” The Alpha Delta brothers shout. I down my drink and steel myself for the heinous that is to come.

————————————–

HE’S HERE! OMIGOD HE’S HERE!!!

It takes me a little while to recognize the man before my eyes, but after I adjust to the hedonism around me and get over the brief torrent of terror that shot through me as the Keg bouncer took an additional five seconds to ensure that I truly am the 25-year-old Beyonce Lovato from Anchorage, Alaska that my ID said I was, I realize that I really am beholding the elusive Ross Packingham, HERE, in the flesh, at the Keg!

Gorgeous as all hell and with a gleam in his eye, Packingham is freaking the night away with some co-ed like he’s Channing Tatum on ecstasy.

“Carla!” He shouts, “Carla Rossi! Over here!” He’s beckoning me over to join him and his slam-piece on the dance floor, and I head his way.

And then, with a tremendous blast, the door of the Keg comes crashing down. A dark, shrouded figure looms large in the doorway. For a moment everything stops, douchebags freeze mid-thrust where they were dancing, and even that one townie playing pool turns to look. The only sound is that of Ludacris’ verse on “Baby” as Mayor Tisdahl, clad in combat boots, night-vision goggles, and a James Taylor t-shirt, fully armed with a crowbar and flanked by a cadre of Evanston cops, steps into the neon light of the Coors Light sign.

“My sources tell me that there’s been underage drinking in this establishment,” Mayor Tisdahl growls, tossing the disemboweled corpse of an engineer into the stunned crowd. “You can thank this snitch here. Now I’m going to shut this motherfucker down once and for all.”

All hell breaks loose as Elizabeth Tisdahl and her police posse attack.

Intoxicated and sweaty bodies frantically jostle with one another (not unlike the Keg on a normal Monday night) as Tisdahl brutally swings her crowbar with reckless abandon at poor defenseless English majors and ETHS seniors while the cops gleefully cite students for underage drinking by the score.

“That’s for yacking on the Evanston Post Office!” screams Tisdahl as she brains a Comm Studies student with her crowbar as he tries to scuttle up a stripper pole.

“And this will teach you to holler about blowjobs on MY streets!” she adds, sucker-punching a Tri Delt like she’s Michael Barrett squaring off against A.J.

“Say blowjob one more time. I FUCKING DARE YOU!”

I can’t bear the sight of her pile-driving two foreign students through a window, and quickly duck under a booth and pray that God will save me, or at least turn off the Bieber that’s still playing if I am to be summarily executed by Mayor Tisdahl in this den of debauchery.

The Keg has all but cleared out as I cower in fear, watching Tisdahl and her cops methodically pour big cups of Bud Light and handles of Svedka and Wild Turkey all over the Keg’s walls and floors.

Tisdahl shoulders her crowbar and lights a cigarette. Turning with a menacing gait, she addresses the few remaining students.

“Based on what I see here, I think that the Keg has some grave public safety concerns. I’m revoking the Keg’s license,” she flips her cigarette onto the booze-soaked floor, “Permanently.”

The flames erupt immediately, burning away years of sin and memories. Students scream, and Tisdahl laughs, but just as she turns to leave a gallant figure, wearing nothing but an enormous purple cape, bursts through the Keg’s window riding on the back of a dashing wildcat.

“MORTY SCHAPIRO!” everybody cheers as the lionhearted president rushes to their defense.

His body is lithe and stately, glistening in the fiery inferno as his beard bristles with the white-hot intensity of a hundred thousand Pat Fitzgeralds.

“Oh no you don’t, Tisdahl!” cries Morty, slapping the Mayor back with his massive appendage. More cheers from the students. Morty rips off a stripper pole to serve as his quarterstaff (he already has a full staff down below).

“I’m going to give you the Chet Haze treatment tonight, baby,” shouts Morty. “You’ll be white and purple when I’m done with you.”

Then Morty sets to work, fighting off cops left and right with the help of his trusty wildcat. Those police officers who are too foolish not to run away suffer the awful fate of his beard, and Morty and his steed finish them off faster than the NCAA finishing off Northwestern’s March Madness dreams.

Yet somehow in all the confusion, Mayor Tisdahl managed to escape, cursing Morty and swearing that her revenge is nigh. Few seemed to care, however, as Morty ripped open a fire hydrant with his bare hands, soused the Keg’s raging flames, and turned the club into an all-night slip-and-slide.

“Come here,” a voice says gruffly. I turn with shock and look at the man gripping my hand. It’s Packingham. “This way.”

He leads me to the Popcorn machine, raps it three times with his knuckles, opens up the top, and helps me inside. “Follow me,” Ross says, pushing a button and revealing a secret passageway that travels out of the popcorn machine and leads to a mysterious tunnel. I follow, obediently, trusting Ross completely.

“I hereby declare the Keg re-instated!” bellows the victorious, and still mostly-nude, Morty. “I wish the Keg luck with their newly instated Lifetime License to Rage!”

I can barely hear the cheers as I go deeper and deeper down the tunnel, guided only by the mysterious Ross Packingham.

To be continued

Chapter one of 50 Shades of Purple can be found HERE.