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• a college newspaper that’s actually about college •
Volume 2, Issue 4 3/15/12 - 3/29/12
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the real legend of st. patrick’s day evans prater wrote this
Don’t you think that before you go wasting what few dollars you have on green booze you should learn a little bit about why you’re doing it in the first place? After all, there’s a lot of history that goes into America’s best holiday full of liquor-laced-lovemaking and beer-broughten-banging. So put down that cocktail and take a minute to discover just why you’re not going to remember the next few hours of your life — here’s the real story of how St. Patrick’s Day came to be. The dude who later became known as a saint was born in Ireland in the late 4th century (that’s the 300s for you scholars out there) in then-Roman-ruled Britain, and was known for his proclivity for beer consumption. From a young age, he could be found replacing his curds and whey with entire mugs of beer, and started kicking his dad’s ass in chugging contests as early as age 8. At 16 he was kidnapped by some Irish raider-guys who really just wanted him for their local drinking team. By age 17, Patrick’s team, “The Mr. Potato Men,” was champion of the Staffordshire County Beer Olympics, and by 18 he was competing in the Irish National Beer Olympics. His specialties included “Quarters” (then called “Gold pieces with a picture of some Roman guy on them”), “Das Boot” (at the time “Leather Boot Chug”, with a real leather boot), and “Beer Pong” (they didn’t have ping-pong balls so they used solid balls of wood and threw them at each other’s testicles. Whoever got hit had to chug a beer while attempting not to fall over in pain or puke). However, Patrick’s life took a sharp turn one fateful evening. He was stumbling home from the pub after making some Robin Hood wannabes look like a bunch of douches in a game of “Duck the Feeler” (a medieval version of “Fuck the Dealer” where you literally had to duck around one guy who ran around the room blindfolded and tried to touch your balls. Weird, we know), when he encountered a leprechaun. “Oi, how’r doin’ ther Mister Patrick?!” “Gooj fren... say, ’r yew a leberkon?” “Why yes! Me is. Foller me if yer wantin’ adventure!” Patrick was indeed adventurous, and even more so drunk. So, he followed the leprechaun to his little leprechaun lair. The sun was
just coming up and Patrick could see a rainbow rising, the end of which was in the direction they were heading. “Ij mus be trew!” His drunken brain conceived. “Is der lossa gold wher we goin mister leberkon?” “Why YES, m’boy! Yes yes, larts a gold!” After a while they reached the end of the rainbow, and not only was there a pot of gold, “Skittles started to fall from the sky and Patrick was overcome with elation.” (Patrick, 3:19) “Ee! Hee-hee! Yee! Haha! Hee!” He said as he jumped for joy, taking piles of Skittles and gold and throwing them in the air mindlessly, still drunk. Patrick was very tired though, and the leprechaun man let him play for awhile, just waiting for him to fall asleep on top of the small pile of gold beneath him.
A few hours later Patrick woke up, blinking his eyes and attempting to get his bearings. “Ware da hell arm eye?” He thought, forgetting the shenanigans that had precluded his slumber. “He’s waken! He’s waken!” He heard a bunch of little leprechaun voices say. He noticed he couldn’t move. His hands, feet, legs and arms had been tied down with little leprechaun knots. “Whart the fark?!” He yelled. “Lemme out’r herr!” But the leprechauns just smiled and laughed at Patrick and called him a douchebag. “Hah, you actually followed us here!” They yelled. Patrick’s self esteem was beaten to a pulp. “Har could I’uh been so shtewpid?! Gar!” He yelled, spitting on the leprechaun’s little heads. “Well, do warth me whatcha will, ya little green bastards!” He yelled.
continued on page 9
Other stuff
Inside
A new challenger approaches! see page 7
Follow the bouncing penis and sing along! see page 6
Full Frontal for the Full Money
Hot New Tallahassee Clubs!
NOT a penis enhancement scam! see page 15
Issues That Only Concern Old White Men
Table of > > > PAGE 4>>>
Colin Farrell Blogs About March Madness
PAGE 6>>
From the Streets
page 7 >>
Birth Control Recalls
page 13 >>
I’m In Love With You Drake, Wanna Make a Sex Tape?
page 13 >>
Bartender of the Issue
Madness rantings from a mad man.
contents 4
How did you spend your spring break? getting drunk, hmm???
You’re not a slut, you’re just unlucky.
10
We forgive you for Bieber, Canada.
7
Erica from Tomahawk is a vegas showgirl gamer at heart.
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Definition: The act of being funny and affable to the point of awkwardness. Samantha had to break up with Julian because of his egregarious nature. The final straw was when he fondled Jessica’s breast because Jessica playfully asked him to.
04
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colin farrell blogs about march madness Jason Montes wrote this
March 10: Top o’ the mornin to ya. I start off mah first day of sobriety in a Beverly Hills rehab center. Mah sponsor thought it would be a good idea to channel mah anger through writin’. Life in rehab is pretty toof. The amenities get borin’ quick and the lack of pahties are depressin’. Since I checked in, everyone here has been awful supportive. I can’t tell if they’re being genuine or are just kissin’ mah arse. The fellas thought it would be fun to get together and create our own brackets for the NCAA tournament. Mah sponsor agreed it would be better to yell at a TV than the police. March 15: I’m feeling confident about mah teams after the first day of competition. I’m 19-1, headin’ into the third day. Mah gut tells me that Syracuse will overcome their injury problems and come back strong next roound. I goot Kansas and Kentucky meetin’ up in the Finals, with Kansas gooin’ all the way. In an upset I have Ohio St. and Duke gooin down in the Sweet Sixteen. Notre Dame is mah bracket buster. I really think that squood is going to make it to the Final Four. I’m so confident that I made a bet with Mel Gibson. If he wins: I have to give that sick prick a foot massage. If I win: he gives me a role in Lethal Weapon 5. March 17: It’s St. Paddy’s Day, but for the first time in years Ah’m not thinkin’ about drugs or alcohol. Instead Ah’m celebratin’ by eating Lucky Charms in cold milk. Mah favorite charm is the horseshoe because
right now the Tar Heels are leadin’ by double digits in the fourth. After this game, I’m going to be at 25-5. I haven’t been this happy since the last time I lapped me ex-wife. Mel agrees to make things a bit more interesting and raise the stakes to 5 million dollars. I’m so happy that I make mah dear ole mudder a St. Paddys Day card with a dancin’ leprechaun in the middle and with shootin’ star marshmallow letterin’. March 18: Duke loses to Baylor. Notre Dame over Marquette. U Mad Bro? March 22: I can’t believe Syracuse lost tonight. I feel shitee as hell knowin’ that Mel and I are officially tied. Mah sponsor has been a real wanker as of late. He’s been wantin’ me to cut back on college basketball and focus more on exercise. I’ve gained two stone since checkin’ in. In times like this I like to ask mahself, what would Bono do? So instead of kickin’ my sponsor in his bloody balls I plant a tree outside. Instead of pissin’ on my sponsor’s face, and then sleepin’ with his wife - not because she’s remotely hot, but for the pure reason that I’m Colin-fuck-anyone-I-want-Farrell - I build a tiny bird house. And instead of usin’ the millions and millions and millions of dollars that I have shoved up my arse at any given second of the day to hire a free throw coach for tacky, butterfingered, Carmello Anthony wannabees who can’t read at Cat In the Hat-level “athletes” I let it go and walk away from mah TV.
Think you might be pregnant?
March 31: Tha’ sounovah bitch is comentagetmeh so I’m hidin’ in tha utility closet drinkin’ whiskee. I doon care ‘bout gettin bettuh anymoore. I joost wanna get outta here. If anyone in tha internet land is out there, please fah the luv of the Jooz, please please help meh stop Mel Gibson. Find meh fi’st in tha utility closet ‘n rescue meh. Mah bloody phone is almost outta bahterries. What was I thinkin?!?! Fighting Irish over OSU?! Really?
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Full Frontal for The Full Monty J.N. Bordonaba wrote this
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From 'da Streets How did you spend your spring break? “Sleeping! And I read some too. But definitely lots of sleep.” -Mike
“Catching up on Supernatural. I’m still only on Season 3.” -Annabelle The only sort of “performing art” I’m familiar with involves nudity and flinging fistfuls of cash about, so you can imagine my excitement when I discovered that FSU’s School of Theatre would be performing The Full Monty. Being the first person in line to buy tickets, I was stuck in a bit of a quandary- where in the theatre should I sit to enjoy the show at its full potential? Surely the show would be spectacular viewed from any seat in Fallon Theatre, but, without hesitation, I picked a spot in the first row. An impulse buy, you might call it, and we all know what excellent decisions those tend to be. So, how did my impulse buy turn out? Well, I survived, and here are some tips to consider if you’re planning on getting up close and personal for The Full Monty. What to expect: Be uncomfortable. The first row isn’t the ideal spot to be in when watching a play or musical. You’re better off sitting a bit farther back, like in the third or fourth row (which, incidentally, is where FSU President Barron happened to be sitting on the night I attended the show). Being so close to the stage limits your view, as you’re constantly craning your neck and slumping into your seat to see all of the actors and the entire stage. Not to mention that a spotlight might shine directly into your face multiple times during the show. For me, this created the perfect atmosphere- I was already squinting and shifting uncomfortably in my seat, why not add nudity? Where to look: From your close viewpoint, you’re not going to be able to see everyone unless they’re all upstage or even wandering around backstage moving things around (the crew was great, by the way). Whenever a musical number took place toward the front of the stage, I found myself staring at the actors’ knees. There’s something about locking eyes with a dude singing his heart out a few feet from me that I find immensely unnerving. Speaking of eye contact…
Avoid eye contact: Granted, the actors aren’t looking at you, they’re busy performing. But when you’re in the front row with a spotlight shining directly on your face, the actors can still see you. Try to remain as stoic and inconspicuous as possible, particularly in the final act. Bear in mind that in the final act, shit gets crazy. There’s a lot of dancing and running around and goading of the audience, both the audience in the play and everyone in the theater. More than once, me and the dude playing “Horse” met eyes, though I could be wrong about this- a few years ago I was convinced that Vincent D’Onofrio was staring into my soul when in actuality he was just reading a sign right behind me. But all of the actors probably noticed my glee when they ripped off their pants, for it was finally the moment I had been waiting for- I screeched “Breakaway pants!” quite loudly. I love breakaway pants. In terms of inventions, breakaway pants fall right in between the cure for polio and upside down ketchup bottles. Breakaway pants were the entire reason I was seeing the show in the first place, and being in the first row enabled me to witness them in all of their glory. Of course, this brings me to the obvious benefit of being full frontal at The Full Monty… The Full Monty: If you’re one for seeing dudes dancing in their skivvies (or in nothing at all) mere feet from you, go right ahead and sit in the front row. There’s a tradeoff here- you’ll be close enough to see the goods, but not all of them. Once again, the disadvantage of being in the front row is that you can’t really see the entire stage without blatantly shifting about in your seat, and I was already getting nervous glances from all of that breakaway pants love. So all I ended up seeing were the chaps in my eye line, and most importantly, the crumpled breakaway pants lying on the floor. It’s a dirty shame that The Full Monty only ran for a week. It’s the closest thing to a strip club this town had. Now it’s back to business as usual, breakaway pants, blue balls, and all.
“Visiting my boyfriend’s parents in Jacksonville.” - Savannah
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Tallahassee’s Hottest New Clubs!
J.N. Bordonaba wrote this
Some of you might be familiar with Tallahassee’s newest reincarnation, Coliseum (R.I.P Chubby’s, and hang in there, Department of Anthropology). Coliseum sports a Greco-Roman theme, and is only the first in a series of clubs that will feature historical themes. Keep an eye out for: Inquisition: Heretics repent! This hot new dance club is inspired by the Spanish Inquisition of the 1400s. Dark and gothic in theme, expect to see decorations consisting of torture devices and dancers in rags and shackles. There’s no cover charge, but patrons must repent all sins before entering. Strictly 21+. Lookout, sin! Bubonic: This club is sick! Inspired by the Black Death outbreak and medieval in theme, Bubonic features crazy dance competitions, “Bubonic Bubbly” drink specials, and recurring appearances from in-house dance troupe, the Flagellants. Do you think you can survive? Mayflower: Come along and ride on this fantastic voyage! This club was inspired by the Pilgrims, who settled in America in the 17th century. At Mayflower, every day is a Pilgrim party. If you like a quieter atmosphere, the club gets pretty dead on “Winter Wednesday”, but that all changes when the Native Americans join the festivities on “Thankful Thursday”. Bastille: Let them eat cake! This club has a Rococo theme, so you know it’s a crazy party every night. The days of the week are split into “Aristocrat” and “Peasant” nights, but it’s always Ladies’ Night. Drinks are a bit pricey, but make sure you’re they’re for “Uprising” night when it’s a free for all at the bar. Note: Shit gets folie. Oregon Trail: Hitch up your wagons, folks, and get your parties together, for the most anticipated new club is Oregon Trail. Every night is a new adventure, where
bar patrons can pick from a variety of drink specials, from “Buffalo Hunt” to “Prairie Fire” to “Snakebite”. Only the strongest liquors are available at Oregon Trail, so consider yourself warned. You’re bound to lose your lunch and other members of your party after “Measles” and, whatever you do, avoid “Hastings’ Cutoff,” lest you die from dysentery. Biff’s: Great Scott! Biff’s is the only new club with a futuristic theme, so be prepared to have your eyes and ears adjust to the assortment of lights, bright colors, and music that will soon become standard. Biff’s throws a big party once a month combining all of the expectations for the future. Anticipate a hell of a lot of hoverboard dancing with robots that may or may not kill you. End of Days: Mark your calendars! End of Days has an amazing Mayan theme, so get ready to jungle boogie. This club is where it’s at, so make sure you’re there for the weekly animal sacrifice! The only drawback is that the club closes at midnight. After that, everyone just sort of… disappears. Sparta: This... is... Sparta! An installment from the ancient Greek era, Sparta features plenty of Greek architecture and decorations, but what distinguishes this club from the others is its atmosphere. Every night is Gladiator Night, with free drinks for the toughest Spartan (are you ready to go into the bear pit?). But make sure you’re there for Ladies’ Gladiator Night. It’s the best show in town. Anno Domini: Tonight we’re going to party New Testament style! This club had a cool Middle Eastern theme, circa Jerusalem in the first century. Pop on your dancing sandals and get ready for Crucifixion Night. And while you’re at it, order a “Blood of Our Father”- it’s to die for.
birth control recalls Jessica Green wrote this
You’re enjoying a lovely weekend sleeping in when you’re suddenly awoken by the incessant ringing of your phone. You look to see texts from your aunt urging you to call her back and three missed calls from your grandma. Your first reaction? Someone died. So, you panic. But it wasn’t a death and no, no one is in the hospital, it’s actually much worse. After hanging up the phone, you suddenly realize that your entire family thinks you’re a slut. A brand of birth control has, once again, been recalled, and even your grandparents’ first concern was their promiscuous granddaughter. As you bask in humiliation and try to convince them that you are still a virgin and plan to be one forever, dread starts to kick in. Everything hits you at once: My period was supposed to come yesterday. Did he use a condom the last time? I can’t afford a baby. Will I have to drop out of school? What will my family think? My body is ruined. Where’s the nearest church to dump the thing? You begin to panic as tears stream down your face. You have to call your family and explain to them that you actually are the slut they all thought you were. You begin thinking of who the father is. With so many options you begin making a list. You’re filled with horror when you realize your possibilities. My baby is going to be hideous. And stupid. And an asshole. You come to the conclusion that your life is over. You begin to picture your future, living in a doublewide with five screaming babies and an overweight husband drinking beer on a torn-up recliner. You haven’t showered in weeks and the smell of baby
vomit and your fat husband’s beer farts make it unbearable to live. You’re forced to get a job as a stripper, which explains all the mixed-race babies popping out of you. During the day, you spend your time working in the local diner, giving blowjobs to anyone willing to give you a few bucks. Your parents have already disowned you and the only social life you have is on Facebook, which may be cut short since you need to sell the computer to make ends meet this month. Most months, your paychecks go to bail money for your husband and soon they are going to kick you out of the trailer for not paying rent. You don’t know how everyone is going to live out of the car and begin to pick which babies you want to keep and which ones you plan to leave behind. You resent all of your children, especially when they cry, and thinking about all of this makes you hysterical and unable to find a reason to go on. Then suddenly, you hear the TV talking about the recall. They
say the name of the birth control and it hits you: That’s not the one you take. You call your gyno and she reassures you that you are fine and there is nothing to worry about. Suddenly, you feel your period approaching and you begin to relax. You aren’t pregnant. You don’t have to marry that kid whose name you don’t know and you don’t have to become a stripper and live in a trailer. You take a few shots to celebrate your fantastic luck and feel somewhat sorry for the poor girl who does use that brand. But, it’s not you, so you can go back to living your carefree, slutty life. That is, until next month’s recall…
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continued from the cover Patrick knew he had no choice but to endure the torture, or whatever it was, the leprechaun’s had in store for him. “Oh, Mr. Patrick, don’t you warry! W’re ta take good care o’ya!” They said, giggling. Soon, they wheeled in a huge keg full of green beer and started filling pitchers. They all got in line and one by one began approaching Patrick, holding his nose closed, and pouring beer in his mouth. “I gan drink moer booze than ya lil bastards think!” He cried. One little idiot started throwing Lucky Charms at his face and saying, “Hehe! These little treasures won’t be discovered by humans until the 20th century!” He looked at the wall, it was March 12th, 420 A.D. They didn’t stop. One leprechaun then slapped the vein in Patrick’s arm and started injecting green beer into his body with a wooden needle, another started pouring beer in his ears. His skin began to turn green and before he knew it, Patrick was drunker than he had been in his life. “Whaja gonna do wish me? Huh? Huh?!” He yelled. “I sho drunken drunk er’ been ma life.” Little did those leprechaun dicks know, Patrick gained superhuman strength when he was inebriated, and this time was no exception. He flexed his potato-strong muscles as furiously as he could, grunted really loud, shit his pants, and busted out of the leprechaun trap! All the little green men stared in awe and immediately bum-rushed Patrick’s face, but he picked them up and threw them against the wall, splattering them like little green
boogers. He found the one who had brought him there, picked him up, and said, “Yar comin’ wish me ya blimy bitch!” And stuffed him in his pocket, along with as much gold and as many Skittles as he could manage, and hauled ass back to Staffordshire. The leprechauns gave up chasing him after about 100 yards because they didn’t want to be seen by people, and their legs are pretty short. When he got back to town, all Patrick’s brethren (that’s medieval for bros) were like, “Dude! Whar the heck ya been?! We’r been lookin’ all over fer ya!” And Patrick told them all the story of how he had been drunk and convinced to follow a leprechaun into the woods, they tied him up, got him wasted, then he escaped and killed a bunch of them, and ran home. He ended the story by emptying his pockets and giving all his friends gold, and Skittles. They were like, “Dude, Patrick, ya’r the best!” Finally, he took the leprechaun out of his pocket, squeezing him tight, and held him over his head. “And this lil’ fucker here, boys,” He said, “is the reason fer all me troubles!” They all yelled things like, “Lert’s kill him!” And, “Chop ‘is lil’ eprechaun dick off!” but Patrick had a better idea. They went down to local Irish Catholic Church, tied the leprechaun to a cross, and held his nose while they forced him to chug holy wine. They made him drink and drink until his little lepreliver gave out and he died right there. A local priest had been watching and was so impressed with Patrick’s devout dedication to the church, and drinking, that he said, “I’m ‘er tell the Pope bout yer’ dedication and fearlessness in the
face o’ danger m’boy!” And he did. And the Pope was like, “Damn. What a badass. We should make him a Saint and give him a holiday or something.” And they did. The Pope decreed that very day a holiday in which everyone would celebrate Patrick’s triumph over the Leprechauns, and drink lots and lots of beer to remember the suffering Patrick went through when they bombarded his body with booze. And that day just happened to be March 17th, 420 A.D. (news travels fast when you’re a badass).
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Welcome to Keeping Up With The Real Bad Girl Pawn Stars of the New York Shore, the show that has your favorite bitches, morons, douchebags and idiots from America’s scummiest reality TV shows! These contestants are vying to win the only truly important prize: their lives! Let’s see what these dolts are made of!
THE CAST: Johnny “Bananas” Devenanzio (The Real World) Dani and Gabi Victor (Bad Girls Club) Sammi “Sweetheart” Giancola (The Jersey Shore) Kendall Jenner (Keeping Up With the Kardashians)
WEEK 3
Abby Lee Miller (Dance Moms) Soulgee (Ice Loves Coco) Kelly Bensimon (The Real Housewives of New York City) Chumlee Russel (Pawn Stars)
The Challenge:
lEarn a ChorEoGraphED DanCE, To BE pErformED in fronT of a Class of 3rD GraDErs.
The Outcome: Unsurprisingly, Abby Lee Miller leads this challenge, as she convinces the remaining contestants to do a striptease to the Mos Eisley Cantina song from Star Wars: A New Hope. All is going well until Kendall Jenner removes her top, “just like Kim taught her.” Because Jenner is a minor, she gets
WEEK 6 The Outcome: Kendall easily passes as she chats up a high school male about what it’s like seeing Kim Kardashian naked “like, every day.” Chumlee approaches a mentally handicapped person waiting in line to play the demo Playstation 3 at Best Buy. After ten minutes talking they decide that blue is the best
off scot-free, while Miller is arrested for breaking public indecency and child pornography laws. Karmic Death: Wearing only a leotard and eight-inch heels, she’s forced to fight a herd of 25 six-year-olds until she succumbs to their tiny fists of fury. The Challenge: EnGaGE in ConvErsaTion WiTh a ToTal sTranGEr for TEn minuTEs WiThouT TalKinG aBouT yoursElf.
color. Soulgee isn’t so lucky, as he accidentally references himself when discussing the loving relationship Ice-T and Coco have, the one he “tries not to force himself into.” Karmic Death: Suffocation via a gay black man’s nightmare: Coco’s enormous white tits.
WEEK 1 The Outcome: Most of our contestants do well, some surprisingly so. Abby Lee Miller scores a 29, and upon hearing the results lambasts the others for, “Doin’ so shitty cuz your moms didn’t raise ya’ll right.” Pawn Stars legend Chumlee scores a lowly 4 after skipping the English and Reading portions, but is saved when Sammi Sweetheart fails to complete the test in time.
WEEK 4 The Outcome: Used to constructing makeshift dildos on the fly, Soulgee produces a sex toy that judges deem a reasonable facsimile for a spacecraft. The Victor Twins - having never played with Legos before - hastily slap some blocks together, but continue onto the next round after secretly switching their construction with rival Johnny
WEEK 7
WEEK 2
The Challenge: GivE a homElEss pErson $5.
The Outcome: Kendall Jenner cries as she hands over the money, certain that her mom will bestow on her the beating of a lifetime. Chumlee Russel tries to talk the homeless man down before realizing he’s the one trying to give the cash away. In a purely malevolent move, the Victor twins turn their bill into a “Poo Lincoln” before
dropping it in front of a homeless man while walking away. Bensimon fails when she gives her $5 to Soulgee, as she assumes all black people are homeless.
The Challenge: TaKE ThE 'aCT'. She’s busy sobbing on the phone with her mom because Ronni forgot a smiley face emoticon in the text message he sent her wishing her good luck on the test. Karmic Death: Suffocated to death in a gas chamber set to emit a deadly mix of hair spray and spray tanner. LMFAO’s “Shots” plays at her wake.
WEEK 5
The Challenge: BuilD a spaCEship ouT of lEGos. Bananas. Bananas calls their deceit, but producers refuse to believe him, citing his frivolous lawsuit against the producers of Entourage as a reason not to believe him. Karmic Death: Devenanzio is forced to hang out with Kevin Dillon until Devenanzio kills himself.
The Outcome: In a moving moment that will forever go down in the annals of reality TV history, Chumlee apologizes to pawn shop owner Rick Harrison for the litany of fuck-ups he’s had since the show’s inception. The Victor twins lose when Gabi apologizes to Dani “for being dad’s favorite,” while Dani apologizes to Gabi “for being
The Challenge:
sinCErEly apoloGizE To an immEDiaTE family mEmBEr or ClosE friEnD you havE WronGED.
dad’s favorite.” A brawl ensues until the producers drag each off set, preparing them for their execution. Karmic Death: From behind a two-way mirror the twins’ parents push a big red button that electrocutes the twins to death. The parents go on to live full, happy lives in their twilight years.
The Challenge:
piTCh a shoW To famED WriTEr/proDuCEr DaviD simon (The Wire, Treme)
The Outcome: Kendall Jenner pitches Simon a show about, “You know, me, and stuff.” Chumlee, struggling to breathe under the weight of his own obesity, tells the writer/producer that he’d, “like to do one’a them shows where them girls come in and give Chumlee them blowjobs, and shit.” Simon attempts to walk off set before his
Karmic Death: The producers drop her off in Harlem dressed as a Ku Klux Klan Grand Wizard. No one attends her funeral.
agent reminds him that this appearance will help provide funding for his critically-acclaimed but little-watched show. Karmic Death: Distraught with the state of modern media, Simon commits a murderdouble-suicide. His final words are, “Let’s see McNulty solve this one.”
While th at expecte didn’t end how d we , it cert better t ainly en han we ded c o uld have Join us n hoped! ex the sma t year as we co ntinue ll-scale genocide are actu peop ally hap py abou le t!
the music page
the black sheep interviews:
Maps & Atlases
Our compasses pointed due north when we were lucky enough to score an interview with loveable rockers Maps & Atlases. Guitarist Erin talks to us about keyboards, soy products and his pet Pegasus. The Black Sheep: Your new album, Beware and Be Grateful, is set to be released on April 17th. Can you talk about your progression as a band, from your EPs to Perch Patchwork to this album? How is this the next step in your sonic evolution? Erin Elders: I think it’s a continuation of things we were exploring on Perch Patchwork. On that album we really started with texture, whereas our earlier EPs were more stripped down with a lot of guitar. Here we moved on past the Perch Patchwork orchestration, but we found new ways to layer sound with crazy guitars and whatnot. I think the writing style is a steady evolution from our previous album. TBS: How does the writing process work for you guys? Erin: Every record has been different, but I think that’s what most bands hope to do, where you let the process and story behind the record be its own thing. It’s good to break out of your own habits and artistic patterns. For this record there was these group of songs [lead singer] Dave had been working on during his tour and when we had a little off time. It happened in a really stripped down way. We figured out which songs worked as an album, fleshed them out and worked it out over multiple sessions. We’d then throw as many ideas down as we could, then see what worked and what doesn’t. TBS: Considering the length of time it takes to put a record out, how much of what you work on actually ends up on a record? Erin: It’s really interesting. When you think about how much time writing, recording and playing music and
cd review
out now
The ting tings Sounds of Nowheresville Tings Ting latest sounds are from decent-ville. The Ting Tings are an English duo consisting of one dude, Jules de Martino, and one chick, Katie White. You probably know them from their insatiable hit songs “Shut Up and Let Me Go” and “That’s Not My Name.” And like all stupidly popular songs, I don’t trust it. So, upon writing this review, I looked to Wikipedia to get the low-down, and like Wikipedia in all its wonderful glory, I found out some fun facts about the origins of this group. It turns out that when White was 12, his grandfather won 6.6 million pounds in the UK lottery, which is roughly $10.4 million in the US (god, I love the internet). Her grandfather gave each of his sons £1millon each, which includes White’s father. He used his share of the money to start a music management company and after a few attempts at starting a successful group, The Ting Tings were born. So, I didn’t want to like them. On the surface, a manufactured band that lucked out with a few sweet songs five
years ago? Cool… Only their second album, Sounds from Nowheresville seems to have made an effort to fit into the current music-sphere – think Cults but with a bit more spunk and energy, or Sleigh Bells but less intense, more dancey. I’m not sure why I hated on them so much, but it probably had to do with this obnoxious girl I knew who loved “That’s Not My Name” and it left a bad taste in my mouth. Leaving the hate back in 2008, however, I gave The Ting Tings another chance. Their first single “Hang it Up” is a fairly catchy tune that evokes images of hip girls in Urban Outfitters salerack skirts jerking around awkwardly, their version of dancing (remember that obnoxious girl I knew?). “Give it Back” has a similar beat to a certain LCD Soundsystem song and does pick up, but not nearly enough to give the track enough momentum to become worthwhile. “Guggenheim” is my
GRADE C
favorite track on the album with the spoken-word verses building up to an interestingly catchy chorus. The album tends to slow down toward the end, though, and it makes the entire thing pretty anti-climatic. Now, The Ting Tings’ question of a lifetime – would they have ever become anything without the help of granddaddy’s lucky lottery win? It’s doubtful, but that doesn’t matter - they’ve scored a few good songs, had their run, won some awards, blah blah blah, and are probably enjoying themselves anyway. They aren’t bad, and are good for some new dance tunes… but don’t expect them to stick around. Sounds Like: Cults and the 80s, separately. Download: Guggenheim, Hang it Up Listen to it When: You’re lounging around and coming down from something fun, but will quickly move onto something else.
you contrast it with the amount of time you actually produce the sounds that end up on the record, it’s small. You have to get to that point, though. TBS: How do you strike a balance between making music you find personally gratifying, but also something your fans want to hear? Erin: It’s a tough thing. Everyone has different interests, and some are able to pursue them under the moniker of their band. But there’s other bands where an out-there record doesn’t work in the parameters of what the band is. Our band, we want to grow and change every record, but the way we move in the same direction, together, allows us to explore new things. TBS: How ambitious do you get with your sound? When you incorporate a new instrument is it out of necessity, like, “this thing makes this sound, so we will use it,” or is it “we want to push the boundaries of how we consider ourselves as musicians”? Erin: With Beware and Be Grateful we started with these cheap Casio keyboards to get the sound up and running, and from there it was experimenting and seeing what stuck. Running with our instincts. We’ve tried doing it before, and it’s worked on certain songs. On this record, though, it helped us produce a really loose sound. TBS: You guys are headlining a tour right now. How do you prepare? Do you prepare? Erin: I think when you’re on tour it’s one of those things where you’re constantly trying to stay on schedule while being exhausted all the time. It’s basically keeping up until you crash and just stop caring about a timetable. TBS: Is there different pressure being the tour headliner? Erin: I think we’re always making sure we’re playing well and presenting the songs as best we can every night, regardless. I mean, you feel obligated to put on a good show for people who paid money to see you. Plus, how often do you get a chance to play a place like Shreveport, Louisiana? Once a year? You want to put on a good show for someone who might be seeing you for the first time. TBS: For someone who hasn’t seen you play live before, describe your show in five words or less. Erin: Four guys, lots of sound. TBS: What’s a band or artist you listen to that no one would think you like? Erin: I listen to a lot of top 40 radio. When we’re on tour peoples’ iPods get exhausted pretty quickly. I think Nicki Minaj’s “Superbass” is an incredible song. TBS: Describe to me your perfect sandwich. Erin: I think a sandwich is a great culinary invention. I think a baguette, smoked tempeh, some tomato, avocado and spicy mustard. TBS: If you could have any mythical creature as a pet, what would it be? Erin: A Pegasus seems ideal, you can ride it into town if you need to, or you can fly. TBS: The most practical of the mythical creatures.
UPCOMING RELEASES One Direction - Up All Night Meat Loaf - Hell In A Handbasket
Peter White - Here We Go Adrenaline Mob - Omerta
Lucero - Woman and Work Delta Spirit - Delta Spirit
VCMG - Ssss Soulfy - Enslaved
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HYFR I‘m in love with you Drake. Wanna to make a sex tape? YOLO Chelsea Onik wrote this Drizzy, I don’t know if you remember me, but we actually met the other night. I snuck in the back entrance of the Leon County Civic Center and was the guy waiting by one of your seven unnecessary tour buses with a sign that said “my intentions are almost as bad as my taste in music”. Ring any bells? I really wanted to get through the door and into your dressing room, but I know how you hate people going in there confusing you with questions (since you feel the need to repeat it like 8 times in one of your songs). Nothing to worry about with me though, if I was there I’d never be able to ask you stupid crap like “Do you love this shit? Are you high right now?”. First, because I studied journalism in college and am not a moron. Second, and most importantly, because I don’t find it polite to talk while deepthroating. No homo? I mean it’s really only gay if it’s not with Drake. Right? I think that’s how the line is drawn these days. I’m just YMCMBS, Young Money Cash Money bi-sexual. Point being, I love you man - I’m right here with the rest of America, way past drinking the Kool-Aid: I’m straight sippin’ yo Henny. Jesus Drake, I don’t know whose example of a perfect creature you embody more of— God’s or Weezy Baby’s. I mean, forget what you sound like (popular culture will in a few months), just look at you! Canadian and black and Jewish! You would make my Yiddish grandparents so mad and mad and happy! So the Drake Snake is foreign, huge, and circumcised?! You’re my wet dream. Honestly, ever since Take Care dropped, I haven’t been able to have sex once without picturing you throughout. I don’t know if this is, like, TMI, but I’m not allowed to listen to the album any more while I’m falling asleep because my girlfriend says having to do laundry five times
a week was getting too expensive. I think she’s also pretty sick of me making her put on a tight black t-shirt and a gold chain whenever she wants to have a glass of moscato (which is all the time, since I beat her whenever she desires a different variety of wine, just like you taught me to do in your songs). She’ll be allowed to complain whenever she comes close to saying anything as clever or poignant as you do with your lyrics. “Tongue kiss her other tongue / skeet skeet skeet water gun”, true genius. You must be unpacking your heart with those words because they allow love is to speak though it has no mouth. Twenty-five sittin on twenty-five mil, I can see why. Sometimes I need to Google your rhymes to make sure they’re not stolen from Shakespeare’s sonnets. The language and application of rhythm really is similar between you two greats - discounting your constant use of acronyms, much like the devices fifth graders learn to remember the planets (HOMES: an easy way to name the Great Lakes, or a derogatory term for your buddy since He Only Macs Easy Sluts?). Even your name is one, DRAKE: do right and kill everything. Funny my love, that’s exactly what I’m willing to do for you. Are you still romantically involved with Nikki? I’ve heard rumors. I bet she’s really annoying and naggy to be around. If only there were a part of her big enough to take out with a sniper rifle... and someone around to catch the bodies like that. So what do you say my little Beef-Drake, wanna whip it out so I can get it in? That’s right, I need to see more than just the real on the rise. Hell, I’m just a fit, eager man with a dream and a half empty bottle of Hypnotiq. Come on over. We’ll get naked and drink to your accomplishments. See you soon, Your biggest fan
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Bartenderof the Issue
Erica McLean tomahawk
How long have you been working here?: 6 months
Do you play video games?: Yup. World of Warcraft is my favorite.
What’s your favorite drink to mix?: The Tipsy Cheerleader - Malibu pineapple, passion fruit, and banana
In the event of a zombie apocalypse, what’s your go-to weapon?: A machine gun! Kill more things faster than any other weapon. Spray and pray all the way.
What’s your spawn point?: St. George Island If you could be any animal, what would it be?: A pelican, because they’re cool-looking, and kinda beachy. What’s your best work story?: Oh, any holiday. This place is empty and we have live music, so we have a good time all on our own! Especially during school breaks. You have a lot of tattoos. How many, exactly?: 15
When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?: A Vegas showgirl! What did you go to school for?: Nursing, but I took my 3.64 GPA and walked out when I transferred and they tried to make me re-take classes. What technology would you not be able to live without?: My cell phone. And lastly, the most important question of all. Pirates or ninjas?: Ninjas. Definitely ninjas.
the seek & find
Can you find all the hidden items? If so, email us with their locations — or hell, circle them and send us a pic — and you'll win! secret@theblacksheeponline.com
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Issues that Would Only Concern Old White Men ashley romano WROTE THIS
With a recent standstill in Congress, the primary traits of the legislative branch seem to have dwindled down to incompetence and incontinence. Proposing the following pieces of legislation would test if our lawmaking branch is actually concerned with the proposals that come across their desks. Restrictions on hair plugs: There is no medical necessity for hair plugs, and why should doctors be able to play god with hair? God made each and every one of us unique, receding hairline and all! Why change what the great Lord wanted you to have? Also, it’s virtually impossible to regulate how humanely the plugs are retrieved. We need to keep in mind the plugs’ rights. It’s not fair to uproot them from their original home and dramatically place the elsewhere for the benefits of a perfect hairline. There needs to be a moral epiphany in this nation, starting with the plugs! Vasectomies only if medically necessary: If the government wants to regulate some members of the nation’s private affairs, why not the nation as a whole? There shouldn’t be an easy way out of procreation. People shouldn’t take medical measures to prevent mistakes from happening, and that’s what the government is here for; to be the moral safety net of the nation. It’s absurd to want to make a little snip-snip to prevent a little “mistake.” Our legislature should want to step up to protect us from the moral annihilation of the nation, starting with vasectomies! Here’s to looking at you, vas deferens defenders.
A promiscuity clause: Those who hold office should be setting an example. Who doesn’t admire a man who can deal with a dysfunctional family? Mistresses just mean someone can’t handle the crazy, and that’s not someone who should be running the country. With a promiscuity clause, those who wander away from their wino wife and Adderall-addled children would be prosecuted. The offender will be forced to spend a year watching only CNN and be required to donate money to Planned Parenthood, and (depending on the severity of the affair) all cigars, alcohol, and other vice paraphernalia could be confiscated. Cradle robbing clause: This prohibits any male from marrying a woman more than 20 years his junior. The leaders of America shouldn’t be setting bad examples, marrying women who look like their granddaughter. Congress should be our fundamental family backbone, and morals start in the home right next to the night stand, Bible in sight, separating the spouses’ two beds. Chances are, if a Congressman marries a woman not raised in the 1950s, she won’t want to make a sandwich for him. Old times were simpler times in America. Proposing legislature similar to the ideas presented above, will give Congress incentive for passing legislature that actually matters. Let these pieces serve as a reminder that if our Legislative branch can pass laws on sodomy and not being able to tie a dog to the roof of a car, then affairs and hair plugs are coverable territory. There’s nothing Congress can’t dig their claws into, as long as they have the motivation.
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class tim e
the madlib: flashback to the last night of spring break
Holy ___1___ I’m exhausted, but I’m not about to punk out on my last night in ___2___. I’m really hoping to run into that ___3___ look-alike again, man he was good in the sack. Well, by sack I mean ___4___ but you understand. And now that I’m not burnt like a ___5___ and my ___6___ has cleared up a bit, I’m looking better than ever! Sure, the tattoo of ___7___’s face on my ___8___ probably isn’t going to be so funny once I get home but, hey, isn’t that was spring break is for? Making mistakes? Like (lol) flashing my ___9___ during the ___10___ show at the beach, getting kicked out and slipping in a pile of spilled ___11___-margaritas, then lapping it up like a dog? #embarrassing But Thursday afternoon was the most ridiculous. Meeting those cuties from ___12___ and bonging ___13___ was epic! Well until I saw his uncircumcised you-know-what. But it was fine, we ate some ___14___ and got so messed up we were watching ___15___-dubbed ___16___ videos on YouTube, and dreaming of some ___17___. Then banged. It was bliss, basically. But tonight… tonight we go hard. Listen to some ___18___, drink my ___19___ + Diet Coke and wear the outfit I’ve been waiting for all week – my ___20___-skin dress! Ahh!!!
1) body part 2) spring break hot spot 3) D-list celebrity 4) place in a bar 5) red food 6) STD 7) 90s pop diva 8) gross Body Part 9) extremity 10) b-list rapper 11) vegetable 12) European
country 13) kid’s drink 14) dessert 15) weird electronic artist 16) Animal 17) fruit 18) bad mainstream rapper 19) flavored vodka 20) Animal
class tim e
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