Things The Man Doesn’t Tell You about Going Vegetarian

LOOK HOW HAPPY SHE IS. DON’T YOU WANT TO BE THAT HAPPY???

Hey kool kollege kid, want to check another cliché off your list? Already converted to Buddhism, studied abroad, went Greek, and pissed away your parents’ retirement funds playing 2048 instead of taking finals? Need something to mitigate the fears of your advancing alcoholism? Don’t worry, you don’t even have to move to save the world. You can literally eat fucktons of fries and be able to call yourself a hero. How? Skip the meat, become vegetarian, and BAM: you’re compassionate. Now go forth, and quote Finding Nemo un-ironically because ~fish are friends, not food~.

But wait[1], that being said, here are a few things to keep in mind coming from someone you should totally trust completely with all life decisions because internet:

How to Eat Like A Cannibal: Thoughts On The Impending Zombiepocalypse and Facial Seasonings

In case you’re wondering, there’s a cannibal in Miami. Quick summary: DUDE ATE SOMEONE’S FACE OFF.

This zombie sure had a lot of… DEADication!

Slower summary: The man — later identified as Rudy Eugene — was caught lunching in the nude on the nose, eyes, and other facial features of the homeless Ronald Poppo, whose pants he had also removed, indicating that he was probably intending to eat more than just the face. However, law enforcement was notified before he’d nommed on Big Poppo’s sausage, and politely asked him to stop. Eugene growled at them and continued ripping the man’s face to shreds. Determined to continue his dining experience, Eugene was unfazed by the first bullet which the Miami po-po had inserted into his body, and continued consuming the face of his counterpart until they had added more.

Fuck this shit about Eugene being high on bath salts. The police just don’t want to come to terms with the facts: the zombie apocalypse has begun.

Here’s the logic. For one, he was eating the guy’s face off. Cannibals would go for the meatier parts, like thighs and arms and literally any part of the body that had more muscle than the face.* Zombies go for the face because they instinctively know, like ancient Egyptians and nose-pickers everywhere, there are brains if they just dig deep enough. Two: it took multiple bullets to stop him. I mean, duh: he was already dead. Police aren’t telling us that the second shot was a lucky one to the skull, which, as everyone knows, is the only way to kill a zombie. Three: has anyone spoken to the victim lately? No. So we’d better be prepared for the moment when the zombie virus takes hold and he chomps off the hand of the surgeon trying to put his lips back on.

Mayor Tisdahl’s really let herself go recently…

In preparation for the imminent apocalypse, I, Eleanor Kinkervoss, have stolen my bandmate’s copy of the Zombie Survival Guide and begun assembling my culinary wiles, in case the time comes when I must surrender my life and afterlife to actually be undead. If I’m gonna be craving human nomz, I’m going to use my mad cooking skills to be a fucking gourmet about it.

So fellow culinary whiz Professor Vandernips and I have teamed up to inform you of the best ways you can eat a face.

Honey Butter and Cinnamon
Take it from Ellie K as a kid: mixing up equal parts honey and butter tastes delicious when you slam it on toast. Make sure you spread from forehead to chin: nostrils are just as easily butter-plugged as toast holes.

Marinated in Oil for Three Days
= pizza! The pores of your victim will gradually clog, causing the condition known to sentient-ish preteens worldwide as “pizza face.” The longer you marinate it, the cheesier it’ll be. Add some pepperoni if you’re feeling crazy– the red sauce is already provided!

BBQ Flavor
Most people like brisket, some people like pulled pork! Why not settle for a dry rub (not the kind you’re thinking of) and then make a quick BBQ sauce. Bobby Flay, the mighty grill douche from the Food Network probably has some great recipes, but who can complain about a quick KC Masterpiece?

A Cuban
In the spirit of Miami, why not substitute human flesh for the meat in your cuban panino (IT’S SINGULAR ITALIAN, I’M FUCKING PRETENTIOUS, OK?), and slap on that mustard and bread & butter pickle. Everybody likes sammiches, and your ham was just as pale and pink as your victim’s cheeks,** right?

Curried
Half of Northwestern is pretentious enough to say on a regular basis that “That restaurant’s korma just wasn’t as good as the stuff we had on our spring break,” so if you’re feeling the spices, make a tasty thai or indian flavored stew out of the guy and eat it with some hot naan or pita. He doesn’t even have to be Thai or Indian-flavored to begin with (like Costco preseasoned meats) – we support color-blind cannibalism here at the Ave. C’mon, guys, race is only skin deep.

Remember to practice fire safety!

Rotisserie-style
Get heinous and heathen, and make it a tribal ritual if you’d like. Invite some people over and have at it in a regular ol’ Luau-style bonfire. Wanna get fancy? Pop an apple in his mouth!

Plain!
Like zombie vegans. If you’re concerned about the welfare of all living creatures, you don’t even have to hurt the cheese bacteria to have a delicious meal – just tear right in and enjoy.***

Best of luck, fellow wildcats. If you need us, we’ll be on the top floor of Swift, having destroyed the staircases and stocked up on seasonings. The Professor says he’s bringing the grill.

–Eleanor Kinkervoss and Professor J. Reginald Vandernips

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*Don’t you give me none of that tongue-is-the-strongest-muscle shit.
**Since a butt cheek joke is imminent and we’re discussing ridiculous things, we’d like to inform you of some shark that has allegedly developed a taste for human asscheeks thanks to some douchemuffin divers and their unfortunately placed fanny packs.
***Well, maybe some salt and pepper…

Things That Rock: Republicans

Good to see you again. Sorry that it’s been so long since I last made you laugh, but I’ve had a tumultuous couple of weeks. You see, ever since I stole away from my monastery in the middle of the night (no, that ‘Brother’ in my name isn’t random) armed only with a box of tagalongs Peanut Butter Patties and a pair of hook swords, I have been mercilessly pursued by a cadre of cyborg zombie ninjas hell-bent on forcing me back to the monastery where I would be forced to eat beets and contemplate Godel Escher Bach alongside the other monks for the rest of eternity. Hell no. But now that I’m safely holed up in a top-secret bunker located miles beneath Ayers Rock, I’m free to write another article!

I'll miss this woman.

Luckily for all you raging optimists, this one is about something that’s awesome, as opposed to something that’s terrible. Even better, it’s about a ‘diamond in the rough’ sort of awesomeness that can be hard to appreciate if you take it too seriously.* In other words: this year’s Republican presidential primaries.

The GOP candidates (or as I like to call them, Mitt & Friends) have been so ubiquitous in our culture these last few months that I’m sure your mind was assailed with a flood of images and quotes and feelings as soon as you saw those words. Maybe they’ve made you angry or sad or scared for the future of America. But hell, they were entertaining, weren’t they?

Yes they were. Especially once it became clear that turds like Michele Bachmann had no chance of making the cut, it was fun to kick back and watch Rick Perry metaphorically poop himself on live TV or listen to Herman Cain quote the Pokemon movie after his past as a serial rapist was revealed.

Here’s how I parlayed the possible terror of these primaries into something enjoyable: Imagine you went in for a routine dentist checkup. You expect it to be as routine and uneventful as it always is when you go in for these appointments every four years, but surprise! Your dentist finds deep rot in some of your teeth. A root canal’s the only thing for it. Shit, you’ve got a nonrefundable one-way ticket to of the most infamously painful procedures ever conceived by doctors. Begin the nervous freakout.

What else to say about the awesomeness of the GOP primaries?

That root canal diagnosis (and the crippling fear that accompanied it on your part) was Bachmann winning the Ames Straw Poll, or perhaps Perry’s entry into the campaign as a veritable behemoth of money and charisma and prayer, plus former pizza CEO Herman Cain making the cover of Newsweek as the candidate to beat. Former pizza CEO! It sure looked like America was headed for an extremely painful procedure, wasn’t it?

But then a few days later, after you’ve spent several sleepless nights tossing and turning over your fate, you get a call from your dentist. He forgot to tell you: they’re going to knock you out for all of it. You won’t feel a thing. And painkillers being what they are these days, you’ll be right as rain within 24 hours.

For me, that brow-wiping ‘wheeeeeeeeeeew’ moment was the poll, one of the first after Cain and Perry and Bachmann had risen and fallen in the ratings like the figures on a merry go round (only if those figures were stupid clowns instead of the usual beautiful horses), that showed Newt Gingrich in first place. NEWT GINGRICH! FIRST PLACE! Good God, this man once impeached a president for infidelity while cheating on his second wife with a woman who ended up becoming his third wife, and later explained his extramarital affairs by saying that they were “partially driven by how passionately I felt about this country.” Yes! And he was in first place to be the Republican candidate for president! I had been almost scared to laugh at the primaries up to this point, like meeting a guy at a party who keeps nonsensically rambling about Clarence Thomas, only you don’t laugh because you can’t tell if he’s joking or drunk. But now Newt Gingrich was in first place! Turns out that guy was drunk and joking! Commence laughter!**

In a gold-in-the-sand kind of way, or perhaps in a we’ll-knock-you-out-for-the-entire-procedure kind of way, that subtle change in viewing the GOP primaries completely transforms the experience from frightening to hilarious. Once you don’t have to worry about finding a house in Canada (my personal Bachmann contingency plan), you can enjoy these video compilations of classic Bachmann quotes (complete with music!) and laugh at the complete absurdity of the existence of ‘classic Bachmann quotes.’ Once you don’t have to watch professional people seriously debate the 9-9-9 tax plan, you can enjoy the ceaseless stream of ridiculousness that is Herman Cain. Once Rick Santorum wins second place in the Iowa caucuses and opens the door to all sorts of Twitter-ready remarks about how Santorum is being spread in Iowa, it’s nothing but joy.

The man loves to get some tail.

I loved these primaries. From a comedy standpoint, there really was nothing better. How can you not love a primary campaign that spawned a website devoted to showcasing animals with Newt Gingrich?

Unfortunately, it looks like we’re going to be stuck with Romney vs. Obama for the next few months, two rational, intelligent, and capable men locked in learned debate. Being the heinous renegade monk that I am, I don’t really know what ‘learned debate’ means, but I’m guessing there will be fewer Pokemon quotes involved. I don’t know what I’m going to do for reality TV entertainment. I mean, maybe you can sit through an episode of the Steven Tyler American Idol, but I certainly can’t. But then again, you’re probably a better person than I am, as evidenced by the fact that you’re not currently on the lam from a cadre of cyborg zombie ninjas.

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*Much like the cinematography of Wayne’s World 2.
**And the systematic destruction of any shred of decency that remained in Fran’s.

Interviews: A Zombie

Turns out, zombies are real. And we have one in captivity.

Mr. Nibbles struggles with a brain addiction and chronic back pain

This is an interview with an actual zombie, who was born, raised, died, and raised in Haiti. On Sherman Avenue’s latest manatee-hunting excursion, we found a zombie, named him Mr. Nibbles, and took him home to be our new pet. This interview was conducted through the bars of his cage (in the bedroom of Sir Edward Twattingworth III), as we fed him centipede brains from Plex and Cheerios from Hinman.

Sherman Ave: Tell us, Mr. Nibbles, how did you become a zombie?

Nibbles: Well, it started out when I went to the Bokor to get some pot.

SA: What’s a Bokor?

Nibbles: Our resident witch doctor. You know how whenever American thugs want to cut a bitch, they cut the bitch? Haitians just go see the Bokor and he curses the bitch. He also deals things.

SA: So what was different when you went to buy from him this time?

Nibbles: Well, I told him that my last trip had been more painful than teaching wildcats to play sports. So he gave me something new to try. Said it came from pufferfish.

SA: What did the pufferfish stuff do?

Nibbles: It knocked me out. I apparently looked pretty dead.

SA: How long did this go on?

Nibbles: Long enough to be buried alive. Can I have some more Cheerios?

SA: Not until you’re done with the interview. What was being dead like?

Nibbles: I wasn’t dead, I was just unresponsive.* When I eventually came to, I felt worse than freshmen sorostitutes on a post-Keg Tuesday morning, and I had a mad case of the munchies. Basically, the Bokor had knocked me out and then given me a dose of datura, which is just your run-of-the-mill potentially toxic hallucinogen.

SA: Can you describe the effects of datura?

Nibbles: Well, it walks a foggy, fucked-up line somewhere between hallucinogen and near-death experience. I’d done it before I was zombified on it. You kinda mumble around tripping massive crusty balls. Side effects are extreme suggestibility, amnesia, diaphragm paralysis, and sometimes aggression. There are Youtube videos of state school Motherfuckers immortalizing each other’s bad decisions on datura. But essentially, you’ve just been roofied by the Bokor.

SA: So in a stereotypical zombie, the drooling, moaning, slurring, limping, and aggression is probably because of the datura.

Nibbles: Exactly. And because zombies are pretty complacent most of the time, they usually get put to work in the field. But I’m sure there are Bokors who get more creative with their zombie slaves.**

SA: Do you identify with the common stereotype of a zombie?

Nibbles: I mean, in some ways. I definitely lost a lot of brains due to asphyxiation while I was buried alive, as a lot of zombies do. I think that oftentimes that disappointment that you’ve just died a little on the inside manifests itself in the aggression caused by the datura. You just want your brains back in whatever way you can, and you end up trying to nom on anyone normal in the area.

A huge part of zombification is the mental adjustment. When you’ve been buried alive and you wake up feeling more fucked up than the lovechild of Tom Cruise and Charlie Sheen, a common question to ask is, “What’s wrong with me?” But the question never comes out right. You end up with something like, “Hn wclch trchk blm nnnnng?” And when the answer from your friends and family is “HOLY FLYING FUCK, I THOUGHT YOU DIED,” at some point you do start believing you’re a zombie. It’s like your crotchety black uncle who’s convinced he’s a Democrat because he’s a minority, despite his right-wing stance on every fucking issue on the platform. It’s like having anorexia and participating in the Stanford prison experiment. There’s this impossibly perfect standard of what a zombie should be, and you have zombies becoming someone else to try to fit into those roles.

SA: So what you’re saying is that you felt pressured by the cultural expectations of zombies.

Nibbles: Yeah. I started hanging around graveyards, I lumbered around slower than the frustrating Motherfucker in the dining hall who’s obliviously in your way when you’re hauling ass to the cookie bar line, I didn’t say anything but “NNNNNGGG” for a year or two. I mean, what kind of a word is “Ng”? The stereotyping and idealization of zombies in the media is a dangerous cultural phenomenon, and it goes unquestioned and unreported. Every time you watch a George Romero film, I beg you to please remember that not every zombie can tear the limbs off of a pair of dumbass lovers trying to make a kamikaze run for their lives. And not every zombie wants to.

SA: Are there any portrayals of zombies in movies that you’d like our readers to watch?

Nibbles: Yeah. There’s a Spanish foreign film*** called Rec, off of which the American piece of shit Quarantine was based. If you’re going to watch a zombie movie, Rec is significantly more heinous. Please honor Latin America with the concession that this movie might be the one thing we don’t do as well. Also, Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island. Hanna-Barbera gets enough zombie facts right to be legit.

SA: Thank you. Nibbles, I think this concludes our interview. We really appreciate your input on the subject. It’s been a heinous time.

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*Like the side door of Annenberg.
**Interactive question for readers: What would YOU do with a zombie slave?
***There are subtitles. Get over it, you’re reading things right now. But apparently they mistranslate the foul language, so whenever you hear the word “mierda” you’ll have to either get off your lazy ass and onto Spanishdictionary.com, or rely on whatever AP Spanish remains accessible behind the stacks of quotable South Park episodes in your brain. See? You knew being bilingual was good for something. You can power trip over your ability to point out inconsistencies in the translation of profanity.

Commissioned Report Reveals Northwestern “Dangerously Susceptible” to a Zombie Outbreak

EVANSTON, IL — In a shocking revelation that is sure to cause much consternation among the Northwestern student body, President Morty Schapiro released the details of a sweeping investigation into the University’s safeguards against a potential zombie apocalypse and pre-existing emergency procedures. The prognosis? Not good.

One day you're just watching a live Human Sexuality demonstration, and the next, BAM! You're nailing a zombie with a crowbar

In a stern rebuke of Northwestern’s zombie preparedness, the report, provided by the Roosevelt Institute’s chapter Research on Zombie Affairs (or “RZA” for short), disclosed that the University is not only “Dangerously Susceptible” to a potential zombie outbreak, but also remains woefully unprepared to defend itself against hordes of the flesh-devouring walking dead. The 700-page document produced by RZA methodically outlines all of the Northwestern’s potential weaknesses, and suggests methods to better protect the undergraduate population. University officials, however, were quick to address the report.

“I am not at liberty to discuss this matter at the moment,” Dean of Students Burgie Howard said at an emergency press conference this morning, “But rest assured that the Administration is doing everything in its power to protect its students and faculty from vicious humanoid brain-eaters.”

According to the report, much of the concern centers around the basement of Tech, long rumored to be the location of covert government-funded experimentation on flesh re-animation. With relatively few safeguards protecting against the hubris of man, the over-reaching arm of science, or the spread of a zombification pandemic of global proportions, many experts have wondered how Northwestern has gone so long without an outbreak. The RZA’s analysis worries that, in the event that an experiment goes terribly awry and even one zombie leaves the basement of Tech (assuming, of course, that it can navigate its way out, a task that’s hard enough for most sentient liberal arts majors), the premeds and engineers would be too beaten down from their coursework to properly ward off even a relatively mild zombie attack.

With a potential zombie apocalypse under way, the report moves on to question the University’s ability to prevent the proliferation of the walking dead. From Tech, a horde in search of delicious human flesh would have to stumble no more than a few yards to feast in the fraternity quad or SPAC, increasing in size and athleticism as the feeding frenzy continued. A defenseless south campus would quickly fall, leaving the entire metropolis of Chicago (just a short El ride away!) in imminent danger of being consumed by an uncontrolled throng of zombified undergrads with a serious case of the munchies.

Expect to see this taped to sidewalks everywhere

Questions regarding Northwestern’s potential capacity to defend itself have also been raised by the RZA report. With a majority of the student population hailing from suburban Illinois, New York, and California, few undergrads have the proper combat experience or post-apocalyptic survival know-how to withstand a threat of this magnitude. Combined with strict gun-control, hostile Evanston residents, and terrain flatter than a Nebraska wheat field, the school seems cosmically screwed in the event of a zombie outbreak.

The report has left University officials scrambling to respond to the revelations. Anonymous sources have noted that, under the direction of the newly appointed Zombie Defense Minister Evan Watkins, the school is reexamining its current zombie defense strategy, which involves barricading all uninfected students and faculty in the library while food, weapons, and Woody Harrelson are parachuted in to ward off an attack. Proposed revisions to the defense strategy include upgrading from Harrelson to Will Smith, diverting money from the current capital campaign to construct a $2,000,000,000 bunker in the current location of the Norris Student Center, or simply letting President Morty loose on the zombies wielding nothing but a chain saw.

Northwestern has also already begun implementing smaller changes to boost zombie preparedness, naming The Zombie Survival Guide as next year’s One Book, One Northwestern, placing copies of Left for Dead in every dorm, frat, and sorority, and offering flame thrower lessons as Norris Mini-Courses. All students have been issued electronic warnings of the present danger, and have been instructed to shoot any frat brother on sight who claims to be on the prowl for a “warm piece of flesh,” or exhibits any other characteristics of the walking dead, such as uncoordinated shambling, incoherent moaning, or poor hygiene. Student response has been mixed so far.

“Oh my God! OH MY GOD! HOLY FUCKING SWEET BABY JESUS DON’T LET ME DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!”

said Weinberg Junior Alison Barnes, before purchasing a double-barreled shotgun off the back of a pickup truck.

But SESP Senior Mike Harding had a different take on the report.

“Zombies are still humans, and deserve to be treated with love and respect just like anybody else. They still have rights, you know,” Harding said. “And you know what? I find the term ‘zombie’ to be grotesquely offensive. My colleagues and I prefer the term ‘the animated deceased’ in polite company.”

Regardless of the fallout from the report, most agree that the best possible mode of action for Northwestern is to recognize the grave threat of a zombie apocalypse occurring right in the midst of our own hallowed grounds, and endorse a strong policy of zombie defense and preparedness.