Tag Archives: New York

The Six People You Drunk Dialed on Dillo

3 Jun

Like you were drinking martinis on Dillo Day...

Like you were drinking martinis on Dillo Day…

So you survived Dillo. Congrats.

But you should check the call log on your phone once you dig it out of the lakefill mud. You blackout-called a ton of people:

1. Your mom
She was out gardening on such a nice Saturday when she got a call from her least favorite child:

“Hi honey, how is your day?”
“It’s not just a day, mom. It’s fucking DILLO DAY”
“Did you say it’s Dildo Day?”
“No mom it’s Dillo, don’t you hear Danny Brown playing?”

Your mom listened, horrified at the screeching coming through her receiver, but thankfully your bad service made Danny Brown sound somewhat tolerable.

Continue reading 

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10 Reasons Why Memorial Day Sucks in New York City

27 May
  1. The world's most bitching location for a cookout.

    The world’s most bitching location for a cookout.

    Tourists. Suck. So. Hard. So yeah, technically I kind of am one since I’m only here for three months on my JR, but I mean is it so hard to not take pictures for three seconds? I’m trying to get drunk here and I swear to god if someone takes another selfie, blinds me with their flash, leaving me to spill my $9 vodka bomb then I will just cut a bitch. Well. Not really. More like cry in frustration.

  2. Everything is full. Hey guys, let’s go grab dinner at that cool little hole in the wall place we noticed for the first time last week. OH WAIT. Everyone and their damn Chihuahua had that idea. Why is that dog sitting in a high-chair? WHO THE HELL KNOWS.
  3. No matter where you go, someone there is funnier and drunker than you are. I like Irish pubs. They’re usually cosy, have lots of beer on tap, and have an old kind of charm. But on Memorial Day Weekend? Well screw me sideways because it looks like the Irish Mob is back out of retirement. Seriously, a friend of mine was called “boyo” like four times in half an hour by the server, who, by the way, brought us twice as many drinks as we asked for, which sounds great until you realize we had to pay for them and had basically no money.
  4. Everyone celebrates it but no one actually cares what we are memorializing. I enjoy drunkenness as much as the next guy, but I will pull a Van Gogh if I have to hear one more person try and toast “Good memories”.[1]
  5. You cannot get away from it. Bar? Memorial Day special. Central Park? Memorial Day gatherings. Movie Theater? THIS MEMORIAL DAY, COME SEE FAST AND FURIOUS 6. It’s endless and god help me why.
  6. Everyone is drinking. It’s great, so many drunk people around and bars are packed. Wait, this sounds like a good thing? Man I suck at this! Anyway, yeah, in reality Memorial Day has some shitty stuff in New York, but it also has redeeming factors. I’m going to go out drinking, so, uh, if you could just imagine I finished this article that’d be great.

Editor’s Note: Sherman Ave supports the troops.


[1] No I’m not joking, it was like four teenage girls and their one token dude friend who had no idea why he had agreed to go, then realized it was because he wanted to bang that one chick who was totally into him but just didn’t know it.

Knicks sign John Shurna, mistake any guard from elite academic institution for Jeremy Lin

11 Sep

John Shurna, Northwestern’s all-time leading scorer and all-time leading “almost going to the tournamenter,” has been signed by the New York Knicks. Of the National Basketball Association. The same league that has the Miami Heat, Oklahoma City Thunder, Chicago Bulls, Los Angeles Lakers of Anaheim, and a host of other professional or semi-pro teams.

No seriously, this is a thing that has happened.

I’M ONLY GETTING STARTED, I WON’T SHURNOUT.

I wasn’t there because the Knicks refuse to give me press credentials for their top-level meetings or anything at all, but I assume the conversation that led to Shurna’s signing went like this:

Knicks GM Glen Grunwald: “So we lost Lin? Fuck.”

Knicks head coach Mike Woodson: “Yeah, he was the only reason anyone in their right mind would not despise this thoroughly detestable organization.”

Grunwald: “Well, we’ll have to replace him. Any thoughts?”

Woodson: “I mean, Lin was a phenom out of Harvard and I think that all guards from elite academic institutions are interchangeable. Let’s see who Princeton’s got.”

Grunwald: “No, they’ve been to the NCAA Tournament. I want someone from a school with a tourney-less streak like Harvard’s.”

Woodson: “Northwestern it is. Who’s that guy, Hernia?”

Grunwald: “We shall sign him at once, so long as he has delightfully high arcing shots and appears to be a 12-year-old boy.”

Again, no confirmation from the Knickerbockers that this is what happened, or that they even get my daily emails >:-(, but this is totally what happened.

The great thing here is that the Knicks have no idea what they’ve just lucked into. Not only is Shurn-daddy a natural shooter and skilled defender with a free throw percentage above 90%, but they have just signed a veritable marketing machine.

Look at this face. LOOK AT IT. Now stop looking at it before you get sad. This is the face that will launch a thousand endorsements. Move over Jeter, J-Shurn is the new face of Gillette: The Best First Razor a Pre-Pubescent Boy Can Get.  And lets not act like Johnny Boy wouldn’t make the perfect spokesman for all kinds of mocktails and non-alcoholic beers. Not to mention, there has GOT to be a way to get the Babyfaced Assassin involved in the next Bourne movie if they even make one because honestly what is that series without Matt Damon? But yeah. Anyway… Just get him on a couple of dates with Kendall Jenner and BOOM, Madison Ave will love him even more than Sherman Ave.

LOL, you forgot the part where I have God on my side.

And the fans will love him even more than the advertisers. Linsanity? Botch plz. Gimme Shurnacity any day of the week, except for Sundays which are for hot steamy hookups between Jay Cutler and Brandon Marshall. Or Saturdays, which are designated for shitting gracefully upon whomever the Wildkittiez of NU happen to be playing. Probably not weekdays either for the next few weeks cause the MLB Postseason is coming up and there is NOTHING like October baseball. But at some point in the future, I’ll want Shurnacity. Maybe.

So, to the New York Knicks: No, not every lanky guard from a top school is Jeremy Lin. But that might just be a good thing. While Jeremy Lin rose to the pinnacle of the sport in a matter of hours, Shurna has proven to be a great leader when you’re losing. Ya know, to the Miami Heat, Oklahoma City Thunder, Chicago Bulls, Los Angeles Lakers of Anaheim, and a host of other professional or semi-pro teams in the National Basketball Association.

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Northwestern would TOTALLY be in the Final Four right now

26 Mar

Shurna leading us to hypothetical victory.

While the NCAA Tournament Selection Committee decided that NU didn’t technically “make the Tournament” the year and wasn’t in the “first six teams out” because the team “wasn’t very good” and “lost crucial games,” we at The Ave can’t help but imagine what would have happened if our boys had made the Dance. After careful consideration, it seems obvious that this team, arguably the third best in NU history (!), would be in the Final Four right now. Here’s how it would happen:

Game 1: Northwestern over Brigham Young
For argument’s sake we’ll pretend that the ‘Cats would have been one of the last four teams selected for the tourney, and thus forced to partake in a play-in game to make the field of 64. NU probably would have taken Iona’s place as a 14 seed (Gaels? Or GIRLS, ya dig?!), so we’ll pit Northwestern against BYU in this First Four matchup.

The ‘Cats at first seemed overmatched.  BYU won 26 games this year, features the skills of Brandon Davies, and has four players who averaged 10 or more points. NU would certainly lose this game against a skilled opponent. However, NU has one option at its disposal that the Cougz can’t match: the ability to twist a calendar. Start school on September 28th? Why not! Return from Winter Break the day after New Year’s? Easy! Finish finals in the middle of fucking summer? SOUNDS LIKE A PLAN. The ‘Cats easily change the tournament schedule to put this game on a Sunday. BYU, for religious reasons, does not play games on Sundays and is forced to forfeit (#MormonProblems). And just like that, NU is in the field of 64 and set for a second round matchup with Marquette!

Game 2: Northwestern over Marquette
Now I know it may seem as if Marquette is more talented than the BYU team that NU slipped by on a technicality. And it’s true! Marquette cruised through the Big East with 14 league wins and has tremendous talent in Darius Johnson-Odom and Jae Crowder. But do they call this March Monotony?* March Meh? March Mellow?! MARCH MENOPAUSE?! NO. It’s March Madness and anything can happen!

This is the time when Norfolk State figures out Mizzou doesn’t have a defense. The time when Bryce Drew can slide across the floor without ripping his skin off. The time when the transitive property should probably be considered as a rule of law and since Northwestern beat LSU and LSU beat Marquette then haha we win so go home and cry about it Marquette cause NU is going to the Round of 32 HEHEHEHE!

The Monstars were Carmody's backup choice.

Game 3: Northwestern over Murray State
This may be the ‘Cats biggest hurdle to date. NU has historically struggled against teams that are good at winning basketball games, and Murray State won 31 of them this year. NU falls behind early in this one, largely because Murray State appears to be faster, better coached, and more skilled than the ‘Cats. Northwestern had hoped to save their secret weapon for later in the tourney, but down 48-2 after just a minute and a half of play, they have no choice but to bring in Northwestern University President and Professional Crocodile Wrestler Morton Schapiro. Morty scores eleventy-seven-trillion points, blocks all of the shots, and grabs all of the rebounds before being ejected for “excessive girth.”

The ‘Cats return to their impotent ways without Morty in the lineup, but the clock works in their favor as they hold on to win eleventy-seven-trillion-plus-two to eleventy-seven-trillion-plus-one. And it’s on to the Sweet Sixteen!

Game 4: Northwestern over Florida
Florida, recognizing the danger posed by a hot Northwestern team (and we aren’t just talking about those four foot tall Nick Freundt heads), opts to bring in their own secret weapon: Tim Tebow. However, the plan goes awry with the realization that the two days Tebow has spent in New York since his trade to the Jets has completely corrupted him. Lil Timmy shows up tweaking on meth with a high-class escort on one arm and a hooker on the other**. His stunning turn to a life of sin appears to have zapped all his magic John 3:16 powers and he is completely ineffective.

The ‘Cats are similarly incompetent and the game seems destined for a 0-0 tie, until Tebow is called for a technical after he strips down nekked and runs around screaming and masturbating. John Shurna sinks the two free throws and NU takes the game. In a controversial move, Tebow is then put down by Pat Robertson. #YOLO

It got in the hole!

Game 5: Northwestern over Louisville
As the game nears tipoff, Louisville towers over Northwestern. The ‘Cats shrink in fear, awaiting a fate more painful than an Orgo midterm. Then suddenly, an idea pops into Reggie Hearn’s head; just moments before the game, he grabs a mic out of Erin Andrews’ sultry hands and announces to the world that he’s been carrying on an affair with Louisville coach Rick Pitino. Pitino, already frail from years of similar and incredibly accurate accusations, breaks down crying. He demands his whole team come give him a hug then runs away.

With no coach, Louisville struggles to stand up and breathe. Given literally hundreds of chances at an open layup, Luka Mirkovic sinks one at the buzzer for another 2-0 victory. With his bucket, the ‘Cats are into the Final Four!

I know you may be wondering what would happen to NU in the Final Four, but Sherman Ave deals exclusively with the facts and those games simply have not been played yet in the parallel universe I’ve described. To try to predict them would be absurd to say the least. Let’s try to stay grounded here, k? Great. Now go watch all the porn you can before President Santorum takes it all for himself.

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*Hat tip to that weird Greg Anthony commercial for something that I don’t remember
**For those of you who don’t follow New York politics: A high-class escort is a prostitute for rich and important people, while a hooker is a prostitute for the rest of us. Since Tebow is apparently rich and important it makes sense he has an escort, but since he isn’t actually much better at football than the rest of us I think he was required by law to get a hooker too. Damn Obamacare.

Love a Random State: Ohio

24 Jan

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

Simon Visits Melissa Hart

12 Jan

I hit ‘random article’ on Wikipedia and then rant about whatever I see. This week: Melissa Hart.

An actress who most certainly did not portray a witch struggling to survive the world of adolescents

It’s a pretty big tell when the first sentence on your Wikipedia page begins “Not to be confused with.” My name is Simon Kamerow, a name which I believe I alone possess and so I rarely have to suffer the indignities of someone saying “Oh are you that Simon Kamerow?” How painful it must be for Ms. Hart that whenever she sends in her resume the casting director reads it with a brief moment of hope followed by several longer moments of crumpling and moving it into a trash can after it is discovered that Ms. Hart is not, in fact, Sabrina the teenage witch.

To avoid any further confusion, Melissa Joan Hart will be referred to as Melissa Joan Hart and, as a quick google search has revealed this as an applicable nickname, Melissa Hart will be referred to as Silver Fox.

The ironic thing is that Silver Fox is being confused with someone who is generally regarded as talentless, and, as far as superficial judgements go, is really not that hot. I don’t think Sabrina the Teenage Witch ever attracted viewers because Melissa Joan Hart was sexy. She wasn’t. Yet still her name has been recorded in the minds of far more people than Silver Fox.

And the worst part?

Silver Fox is probably pretty fucking good. She’s appeared on Broadway since 1966 and has been nominated for a Tony, which I’ve heard from the four people who watch the Tonys is an impressive accomplishment. She has lived a long and assumedly fulfilling life except for the fact that no one knows who she is.

My understanding of acting as a profession is limited, but from what I can divine from that one episode of Inside the Actor’s Studio I watched, actors are not trying to end world hunger. Acting is not a profession that has any pretentious claims about making the world a better place or providing housing for the poor, it is what an audacious first-year Economics student would call a “result of prolonged surplus.”

Acting is the type of profession that needs more than one person to exist, and thus we come to the unfortunate truth that Silver Fox has to face every day of her life: actors need audiences.

And who is the audience of Silver Fox?

There was a movie released in 1996 called Original Gangstas. It stars Fred Williamson and Pam Grier along with other former Blaxploitation stars. That’s the gimmick of the film; people wrapped with nostalgia for Blaxploitation want to see their former heroes still kicking ass.

But the movie failed, like so many futile exercises in nostalgia do, largely because what was is often not as resplendent as we remembered it and, unfortunately, human beings are not like wine. We are spoiled with age, rotten and dying, and if this seems harsh to you, ask yourself why professional athletes retire before 40 or why porn stars have a shorter shelf-life than yogurt.

When I was reading about Silver Fox I briefly imagined a scenario where she was cast in some sort of revival show on Broadway and the youth of today that grew up with whispers of her greatness would flock to that street in New York to see her perform one final time. But then I realized that even if she was still capable of performing, even if she had been miraculously preserved, no one knows who she is.

Melissa Joan Hart, starring in her new role, "Sabrina, The Middle-Aged Mother Coping With the Impermanence of Fame"

There would be a small amount of confusion regarding why Melissa Joan Hart was in this production. And as Silver Fox took the stage and looked out on the audience it would probably hit her that she missed her chance. Her singing wasn’t that beautiful or her acting wasn’t that convincing or maybe she gave poor blowjobs, but she missed the boat of immortality. And at that moment, when she stepped out on stage and opened her mouth to sing and one person flashed her a look of puzzled confusion because she never portrayed Sabrina, the Teenage Witch — at that moment she would remember that when you step off a dock and miss the boat you fall into the water.

That’s where Silver Fox has been, desperately treading water for more than half a century and I can’t help but imagine that her limbs are tired, and suddenly the boat seems impossibly far away and the water of anonymity and obscurity that once shocked her body with its coldness now seems much warmer and far more comfortable. She realizes that her legs have stopped kicking and she lets herself sink down, the water washing over her like the applause she so desperately craved for so long.

I spend a lot of time on that dock, looking down at the boats sailing away and I’ve noticed how the calm the water is. Despite all who have drowned, there isn’t even so much as a bubble.

Simon is also the genius behind the blog “Some Children Left Behind,” a resplendent collection of literature and poetry. He can also play the banjo.

Eight Statements You Should Never Make

9 Jan

Want to know how to make yourself look slightly ignorant? Here are several ideas you may insert into one of many orifices you find difficult to clean in the shower.

“I really hate the taste of aspartame.”
No, you hate the thought of aspartame. Your body is wired to like sweet things, but your mind knows that you are consuming Franken-sugar. In the immortal words of Very Mary-Kate: “You know how you can’t eat meat anymore once you know where meat comes from?” That’s you, Ms. “I Won’t Eat It If It’s Not Organic, Leafy, And Hasn’t Touched An Animal With A 39½ Foot Pole.” Congrats on your mental victory; I’m slightly jealous and mostly derisive.

Special mention to anyone who says they hate chocolate without a valid excuse. You’re either lying or there’s something wrong with you.

Dawg, Mozart's "Requiem" is my jam

“If you play Mozart to babies they’ll be smarter.”
If you had done your goddamn research, you’d realize that this is actually an extreme extrapolation by the media off of a 1993 cognition study where researchers measured the effects of sound on spatio-temporal reasoning. They played music (which HAPPENED to be Mozart) to Group 1 for ten minutes, a “relaxation tape” to Group 2 for ten minutes, and complete silence to Group 3 for ten minutes, then immediately gave them some mind puzzles. The ones who’d been listening to music did better.

The finding had nothing to do with Mozart; scientists have reproduced this study with other music. The finding was because Groups 1 and 2 weren’t bored as hell listening to rainforest noises or their own borborygmi for a period of time in which they could’ve Sporcled every 90’s song ever written at least three times. It was a temporary effect on a specific type of reasoning and it wasn’t caused by Mozart. But listening to music before you start your next 2,000,000-piece puzzle may help you for ten minutes afterwards.* Now put down the Baby Mozart tapes, they’re not going to give your kid a Flowers-For-Algernon IQ boost. C’mon, we all know that most of us Bienen kids can’t count past four. But you should still check out Schubert.

“I’m so fat.”
Unlike the rest of this list, this one could be true. But regardless of the statement’s verity, rarely does the speaker believe it. No further explanation, y’all know what I mean. I have a secret fantasy of giving a silent staredown to every kumquat of every size that ever regales me with this phrase. I will watch their faces as they realize I refuse to bite on their compliment-fishing line. Unfortunately, having a guilt complex blows.

“Girls don’t fart.”
Welcome to 2012, where vaginas don’t preclude one from anal salutations. Ellie K can flatulate with the best of you bean-gobbling fools.

“I’m fuckin’ awesome.”
If I didn’t notice, you shouldn’t have to tell me.

She's not wearing anything under that... thing

“Fashion is about sex.”- Vivienne Westwood.
Thank you, Sigmund Freud.

First off, raise your hand if you possess a penis and give a flying fuck about fashion. It’s normal to ask yourself in the morning if you look like you might smell. But fashion extremists feel a level of consternation at the question of whether it’s still “in” to leave open the bottom button of your blazer. Now, if your hand is in the air, you’re either in the minority or in the process of dancing.

And now ladies (and gay men), when have you ever gotten dressed in the morning with the burning desire that an attractive manly man will seize you in a frenzied passion after noticing that you’ve matched your hat to your belt buckle? Yeah, me neither. Most men don’t give a damn if you’re wearing Lilly Pulitzer or pajama bottoms or a pillowcase with sequins if you’re their type and DTF. If fashion and sex are related, they are third cousins twice removed. Case closed.

“The Sodomites in the Bible were punished because they were gay.”
Not exactly. Summary of the story:

According to the Bible, Sodom and Gomorrah were two cities known for being full of motherfuckers. Not the kind you find in New York — we’re talking rape in the name of shits n’ giggles. In Sodom, it was illegal to help strangers, which pretty much goes against everything that real, love-thy-neighbor Christians believe. So God sent some angels to walk around town, and a man named Lot, being the generous guy he was, offered them his home so they didn’t have to sleep outside in the dangerous city. The Sour Motherfuckers in the city got wind that there were strangers in town, surrounded Lot’s house, and told Lot to send them out so they could rape them.** That is agreed upon in two separate passages of the Bible. The Sodomites’ sin, according to Everything About Sodom In The Bible, wasn’t homosexuality, it was a lack of goodwill towards strangers. Does anyone see the irony in the citation of these passages by those hoping to exclude gays from everything under the sun?

“Sherman Avenue isn’t heinous.”
I will see to it that you die painfully, you empty-headed animal food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction.

Because, see, I can do that.

“The heinous behind us and the heinous before us are tiny matters compared to the heinous within us” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

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*Warning: You should not rely on a Mozart-induced spatio-temporal IQ burst to save you from a two million piece puzzle.
**There’s a bit where Lot’s like, “You could rape my virgin daughter or my concubine instead of these dudes I just met, because apparently it’s okay not to respect women, my family, or women in my family.” Conflicting accounts in Judges and Genesis then say that either the Sodomites raped the hell out of his poor concubine, or the angels in the house blinded the offending Sodomites before anyone got raped and warned Lot to skip town.

Sherman Ave Freshman Guide: Making Friends

4 Sep

I see 2,000 future friends

One of the best aspects of the college experience is how many fascinating people you meet and subsequently engage in raucous shenanigans with. A good collection of bffles can be an essential asset in all of the tasks that you will face during your freshman year, from drunkenly yelling at buoys in Lake Michigan to figuring out how to torrent The Lion King 1 1/2 without getting caught.

At first, making friends with complete strangers in a strange, strange land replete with fraternities, an all-night Burger King, and theater students can seem like a frightening challenge. But that’s no cause for alarm. Everybody is in the same boat as you, and upon completion of your freshman year you will be astounded by how many cool friends you have made and how many mysterious names still remain in your phone’s contacts — the forgotten identities of all your over-eager peers who decided to try and befriend you due to your proximity to one another at March through the Arch. Just remember that friendships grow organically and cannot be forced, unless, of course, you follow our sage wisdom on how to meet new friends.

Continue reading 

10 American Historical Events That Totally Should Have Been Pregamed

7 Jul

For those of you out there in blogosphere who aren’t familiar with the up-and-coming trend of “pregaming,” it is a term that refers to the act of consuming alcohol before any event; it could be a football game, a musical, or even a 250-student lecture. Unfortunately, this trend of pregaming has only become a common cultural activity in recent years. We must wonder: How would history have been changed if previous generations were clinical alcoholics like ours is? Here are the top ten historical events that would have been infinitely better had all parties involved drained several shots of Jose Cuervo beforehand.

Had the politicians been drinking, Sumner easily could have smashed a bottle of Jack Daniels over Brooks' head

10. Brooks-Sumner Affair
Senate floor debates just aren’t as great as they used to be. Sure, cable news might be a bit more interesting if procedural rules required a Senator to take a body shot off of Harry Reid every five minutes in order to hold the floor, but even a drunken debate on campaign finance reform couldn’t hope to touch the glory days of the antebellum era. Those were the good old days when a politician like Rep. Preston Brooks (D, SC) could beat Sen. Charles Sumner (R, MA) of unconscious on the Senate floor (while Brooks’ bro Rep. Keitt covered him with a pistol), all for having the audacity to criticize one of the most heinous and hypocritical institutions in history. Now just imagine that the rest of Congress had just returned from a heated North versus South flip cup game to see the Brooks beating the living shit out of Sumner with his cane. Intoxicated Speaker of the House Nathaniel Banks (R, MA) would undoubtedly have taken off his shirt before body-slamming Senate President pro tempore Jesse Bright (D, IN) to the ground, the Republican caucus would have engaged in fisticuffs with the Democrat Representatives from Texas, Alabama, and Tennessee, while Sen. William Sebastian (D, AK) and Sen. William Seward (R, NY) dueled with switchblades, making Bleeding Kansas look as peaceful as a Scandinavian village in comparison to the Capitol.

Moments after Churchill "accidentally" sharted himself

9. The Yalta Conference
I can just picture it now. Stalin, Roosevelt, and Churchill all meet to discuss the war, but decide to stop by the tavern first. The result would not have been as productive in a political sense, but damn would it have been a hot mess. It would start out with some tipsy attempts at discussing politics: Stalin would complain about his army suffering more casualties than those of his allies, and Roosevelt and Churchill would make a serious effort to listen patiently. But the ale would eventually get the best of the latter two, and they would break out into laughter. Stalin would laugh along with them, continuing to throwback shots of vodka like only a Russian could. The behavior of the tanked triumvirate would deteriorate rapidly, ultimately resulting in Stalin and Churchill engaging in a wheelbarrow race against FDR and his trusty wheelchair. The next day would be riddled with unprecedented levels of despair and ruefulness, especially for Churchill, who would find – to his great chagrin – that Stalin had taken a hefty dump in his top hat.

8. The Gilded Age
The Gilded Age was such a flaming pile of shit in American history, it’s a wonder that so many Americans were able to survive it without resorting to the bottle. Even a 30-year bender would be preferable to living through this period of economic transformation and expansion that serves little purpose in America other than testifying to the opulence of industrial robber barons, screw well-intentioned high school students over in the AP US history classes, and supplying some of the most offputting vintage porn known to man. The Women’s Christian Temperance Union’s leader Frances Willard might have seemed a lot more attractive 6 15 shots in, and one would almost have to be in an altered mental state in order to think that so much damn facial hair was a good idea.

This is pretty much what the walk back from the frat quad feels like

7. Trail of Tears
We all hate walking. But it seems that whilst intoxicated, walking isn’t much of a hassle. If I was a real Cherokee (apparently 1/64 isn’t enough to get me a scholarship), I would surely regret my ancestors’ collective choice to walk the Trail of Tears and not the Trail of Beers. Granted, skeptics might express their uncertainties about this notion, suggesting that the combination of walking hundreds of miles, drinking alcohol, and being dehydrated would result in a drastically lower survival rate. Yes, it’s a valid point, but then again: NEVER BACK DOWN. Would our tribal victims allies really have anything to lose at that point? God forbid they don’t survive the journey to Oklahoma! And if the natives are severely sloshed on their compulsory pilgrimage, the American soldiers mercilessly ravaging escorting them might as well get hammered too. Who knows? It could have even resulted in the formation of a lasting partnership between the two cultures.

Oh no! It says we're all out of beer!

6. 2000 Florida Election Recount
The possibility of having to suffer through four years of a George Bush presidency was bad enough to justify downing a fifth of whiskey at 10 am on Election Day, but only a thorough pregaming could have prepared America for the month-long emotional roller coaster that awaited the nation. Americans needed a steady inflow of booze to deal with the trauma of the election, and maybe a couple of double shots would have made Florida Secretary of State Katherine Harris a bit more likely to favor democracy over bitter tight-ass partisanship. Even the Supreme Court seemed poised to embrace the necessity of pregaming their decision, notifying everybody else that they did not expect to be tethered by precedent to the poor decisions they were about to make.

5. The Gold Rush
ROAD TRIP! Back before the days of interstate highways and rapidly moving automobiles, a road trip would have been conducive for more adventure, but also more anguish. How does one increase adventure while simultaneously decreasing anguish? Well, besides PCP, there’s no better way to do it than with some old-fashioned 19th century moonshine. It’s true that your youngest child may die of cholera while you’re attempting to urinate on a herd of buffalo, but there would be no repercussions, because west of the Mississippi, laws are upheld only by Clint Eastwood’s overwhelming masculinity. If you could manage to avoid being ruthlessly tomahawked by the natives during your escapades, you would be met with exciting opportunities upon your arrival. After all, nothing could be more enjoyable than stumbling through uncharted woods while attempting to prospect gold with a pistol and a spoon.

Seriously bro, chill the eff out

4. Burr-Hamilton Duel
If only Vice President Burr and Secretary of Treasury Hamilton had spent their time sipping on brewskis instead of wasting their time bickering over stupid issues like the future of their fledgling nation, Hamilton might have lived and somebody cooler, like Henry Clay, would have his face on the 20. But nay, instead of pregaming the local New York women’s hockey match and ending up at BK, the two ended up rummaging in their daddy’s gun closet and found two pistols to play with. If only the two had gotten so blotto that they couldn’t shoot straight and decided to skinny dip in the Potomac instead, tragedy would not have struck America on that fateful day.

Clarence Darrow and William Jennings Bryan mentally preparing for a keg stand

3. The Scopes Trial
I love getting obliterated before a court hearing as much as the next guy, but this is beyond the normal judicial jungle-juicing. A landmark case that would set a precedent for the evolution debate for years to come, the Scopes Trial would have been an ideal event to pregame for a multitude of reasons. For starters, we must recognize that the defendant, John Scopes, was a biology teacher in Tennessee. I don’t know about you, but my high school biology experience was less than splendid. As a matter of fact, it was absolutely fucking heinous. On top of that, we’re talking about Tennessee – likely the only state that would arrest someone for teaching the truth evolution. Suffice it to say that if I were to sit through an obscenely lengthy court trial to determine what someone can and can’t teach in a Tennessee high school, I would be so slammed that my behavior would leave the jury with no doubt that I descended from primates.

2. Watergate Scandal
I’ll admit, drunkenly stumbling into other people’s rooms and tampering with their things is one of my favorite activities. If only CREEP’s cronies were three sheets to the wind when they broke into DNC’s headquarters, the 70s might have been a totally different time. Perhaps, had Nixon’s thugs been breaking into the hotel been inebriated, they wouldn’t have done any more damage than peeing in the corners of the DNC’s room, scrawling “McGovern suxxx” on the walls, and stolen of the DNC’s condoms. But instead, the all-too-sober men ended up precipitating the decline of Nixon, along with America’s pride, and forcing Justice Department interns to pour over hours of White House tapes of Nixon loudly masturbating.

Our Founding Fathers proudly proclaiming their inherent right to party

1. Every American Political Convention That Happened Between 1775 and 1787
Usually when friends get together and have a few drinks, the results are nothing more than shared laughter, a few forgotten moments, and maybe even an ill-fated hook-up. But laying the foundation for the creation of a fledgling nation? That’s fresh as shit. It would all begin at the First Continental Congress, where politicians from various colonies would convene to get slizzered and establish a new slanderous nickname for King George III (they would eventually settle upon Duke of Cunterbury). Patrick Henry’s passionate quote, “Give me Natty Light or give me death” would not only secure his spot as the Supreme Emperor of all Tools Past, Present, and Future, but would also encourage his fellow shitshow participants to kick the party up a few notches. Although they would still send King George the Olive Branch Petition, symbolizing peace and a last-ditch effort to avoid a budget-breaking war, there would inevitably be much controversy about whether or not to extend this gesture to the king; Thomas Jefferson, for example, would likely be fiercely opposed until given permission to heartily rub his balls on the olive branch before its submission.

In May 1775, just days after the beginning of the Revolutionary War, the crazy bastards would throw another kegger in Independence Hall, this time getting so bombed that they would nominate George Washington – some 43-year-old slave-owning doucheloaf with wooden teeth and a bizarre cherry tree fetish – to command the Continental Army. They would proceed to nominate John Hancock to be president of the congress, on the basis that “his name be of the finest character and innuendo.”

After being hung over for the entirety of the war (Washington would later refer to Valley Forge as a physical, spiritual, and gastro-intestinal nadir), the rowdy bunch would gather for their third rager, this time relocating to Annapolis. Regrettably, a small portion of the group would be unable to attend, as most of them would still be passed out from the Yorktown celebration party thrown by Alexander Hamilton, where they upended the Liberty Bell and filled it with Rum and Coke.

Finally, in 1787, the old gang would convene for the last time to relive their glory days and draft a new constitution, a good idea given that they were all black-out drunk when they wrote the Articles of Confederation in 1783. Miraculously enough, what would come of this Constitutional Convention would be a stable, legitimate constitution. This would be owed to revisions made the next morning, namely the excision of the 11th and 12th amendments, which legalized public nudity and public urination.

-Ross Packingham and Evander Jones

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