Sherman Ave is a great way to get involved, because… well…
…okay, there’s a reason this is number ten. But it sure is a hell of a lot better way to get involved here at Northwestern than joining a group of peppy undergrads who sing a capella covers of Yellowcard.
9. You aren’t currently a writer on Sherman Ave.
Realistically, you aren’t content with that. Join us, and we will imbue your life with meaning and satisfaction.
Drugs, sex, and rock and roll. Except it would be more aptly described as alcohol, alcohol, and Bruce Springsteen. C’mon, all the cool kids are doing it. So is some twat named Evander Jones.
7. You love Morty.
We love Morty. Is that not enough? Just think about the man’s silky, silvery beard and how much you’d love to write articles about it.
Everyone secretly yearns for a secret identity. As a writer on Sherman Ave, you’ll get the chance to not only have a secret identity, but to have a secret identity that offends at least 85% of the global population.
Join the club, champ.
4. It’s free.
We live in a world where nearly everything costs money – barring, of course, happiness. And while money can’t buy happiness, being a writer on Sherman Ave can bring you relative happiness from the heinousness and despair you thrust upon others. And if that’s not enough to warm the cockles of your frigid heart, just think of all the slampieces you’ll bag as a writer for this blog (unless, of course, you first have to explain to her that you are the true identity of somebody named “Sir Edward Twattingworth III”).
3. You went to Lyons Township High School.
We don’t know what it is about that place, but they manage to crank out more atrocious individuals than Octo-Mom would if she were boinking Fred Phelps.
2. You came to our informational meeting.
It was at Burger King at 1 o’clock on a Saturday afternoon. You wore a three-piece suit with a keyboard tie. We were visibly intoxicated. Don’t even try telling us you were just there for the food.
Sherman Ave is an excellent group of people, who will do everything from drunkenly showing up to a house party dressed as John F. Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe to beaning you in the cranium with freshly-picked apples. The people who aren’t us want to be us. And the people who don’t want to be us are probably from one of the following countries: Latvia, New Zealand, Iceland, Uruguay, Brazil, Kyrgyzstan, São Tomé and Príncipe, France, or Costa Rica.