The Black Sheep
Fr ee .... lik ew ea r lib ing ra d ry iap er ! si n
th e
• a college newspaper that’s actually about college •
Volume 3, Issue 15 11/29/12 - 12/5/12
theblacksheeponline.com @blacksheep_UGA
Poppin’ Pills
Walker Smith wrote this
There are places in this great nation where the freedom to change one’s consciousness is respected and nurtured, sometimes to a beautiful and irresponsible degree. The state of Georgia is not one of those places, and considering the fact that selling alcohol on the Lord’s day actually had vocal opposition, it won’t happen any time before the sun dies and the Earth is a cold and lifeless mass of rock. That said, the pharmaceutical industry spends years and millions of dollars making chemicals that make everything better all the time. Or so their confusing commercials tell me. Something about dancing in white linens and playing guitar in public parks. I mute the television during breaks in shows and mostly dub them with my own scatological versions, so I don’t really know what they’re actually saying. Cialis commercials get pretty dark under my creative direction. Anyway, it shouldn’t be surprising that millions of people get a little extracurricular with these wonder compounds, despite the stern disapproval from the killjoys at the FDA. What better time than finals to take a little medicine for what ails you, even if the fascist in the white coat says no. The go-to drugs around now are usually the bastard children of speed: Adderall, Ritalin, Vyvanse or whatever it is they’re giving the kindergartners to get them to focus these days. Despite what you may believe based on hysterical Fox news reports, this isn’t a new thing. Back when your parents were barely passing at whatever business program they eventually failed out of, they were taking diet pills to give them the pep to crank out papers and pretend to like literature. The chemicals are related. The kiddy crank you’re taking is an amphetamine derivative, or an outright amphetamine. Same deal back in the eighties. That means they have the same side effects. Take a few, maybe you write faster. Take too much and your brain is a ball of snakes attempting to escape your skull out of the earholes and your blood is made of wolverines. This ends in a jail cell. Also, while they may make you focus, you can never guarantee it will be on your work and not hours of Tetris. Maybe you just want to take the edge off your anxiety about how badly you’re doing in Intro Calculus. This brings us to Xanax. It is designed and intended for use in treating anxiety disorders and is part of the regimen for some people with depression. You are four days late turning in something that is eighty percent of your grade, so you get to popping those Xanny bars. They will of course make sure that you no longer fear anything you should, which means you will never turn it in. Just live in the moment, kid. Also do not combine these with alcohol. Your stupid friends will say “It makes it hit like a hundred times faster bro!” These people are trying to kill you. Say it with me: Downer plus booze equals tombstone. Say it every day into your bathroom mirror. Which brings us to that good old standard of prescription pill abuse: Pain pills. They give your brain’s pleasure center a powerful right hook, as you may remember from getting your wisdom teeth removed. That’s neither here nor there, but be very careful: These are
Spreading Chanukah Cheer
Because what american doesn’t like playing with fire, eating deep fried foods and gambling?
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relaxing and sneakily addictive. There’s a very good reason they call these Hillbilly heroin: They are a hell of a lot of fun, but it’s the kind of fun that ends you up living in a trailer. The college rule of thumb for these is: Only take them if you have some left over from something medical. The same goes for that codeine cough syrup you were given for no good reason. You are not Three Six Mafia, you cannot make this a regular thing. They also shouldn’t have since one of them died. No one is above my rules. While you’re getting your head twisted, keep your head straight. Have fun out there.
what’s inside
Top 10: ways to be sent over the edge leading up to finals
Why snow and weed go together to beautifully.
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Clarke County drivers, here’s lookin’ at you.
Slopes and Dope
contents page 4: from the streets
You wake up Christmas morning and there is only one present underneath your tree. What do you want to find when you unwrap that gift?
Questions? Comments? Compliments? Insults? info@theblacksheeponline.com
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page 6: How the Mitt Sold Christmas
A political twist on a Dr. Seuss classic.
Table of
page 10: Bartender of the week
Kayla from The Bury gets turned on by sumo wrestlers.
page 13: We Interview: Nick Waterhouse
California boy makes “old school” rhythm and blues cool again.
page 13: All Nighter Library Drinking Game
We make studying for your finals a whole lot more fun.
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word of the week quipster:
A person who uses outdated phrases in an attempt to be amusingly ironic.
“What do you mean you think I sound like an idiot? Well how ‘bout you just go talk to the hand, ‘cuz this face don’t wanna hear it?”
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From the Streets Got a question you want us to ask? FTS@theblacksheeponline.com
You wake up Christmas morning and there is only one present underneath your tree. What do you want to find when you unwrap that gift?
“I want to find Obama’s birth certificate. We all want to see it, but I want to be the first.” - Derek L., Senior
Spreading Chanukah Cheer! Alex Edelstein wrote this
It’s almost that time of year again. Leaves are falling off the trees, wreaths are hanging on people’s doors, and Macy’s Christmas decorations are already out. And by “time of year,” we mean Chanukah, not Christmas. Over the years, the Festival of Lights has been transformed by the “American” Christmas. Kids now get lots of presents, have Chanukah bushes, and believe in Chanukah Harry. These are just a few of the major changes that the Jewish faith has embodied in the last few decades. But as of late, America has been experiencing a lot of changes: There is a black president, legalization of gay marriage in many states, and the ability to use marijuana recreationally in a few states. So why can’t candy canes symbolize the spears used to make the menorah in the old temple, wreaths symbolize the “magical” bowl of oil that lasted for eight days, and Santa Claus be the new Chanukah Harry? It’s time for a change, America.
new. In 1994, Adam Sandler tried to get non-Jews to singalong to his “Chanukah Song.” You know, the one about Goldie Hawn and the Three Stooges that took the world by storm for about two weeks. Then people forgot about it. In 2010, the Maccabeats, a group of Yeshiva students, released “Candle Light.” It was a cover of Taio Cruz’s “Dynamite” with the words changed to recount the story of Chanukah. Again, faded away in a short time. The Jews need to realize that a less direct approach is key. It’s all about hiding your religion in plain sight. Switchfoot does it, Relient K does it, and despite their best efforts so does Mutemath. The key is to make the music so catchy that no one cares. The next time you put up a nativity scene for Christmas you should blast some Matisyahu instead of “I’m Dreaming of A White Christmas.” Your neighbors will thank you.
“Because realistically, what american doesn’t like playing with fire, eating deep fried foods and gambling?”
These days Christmas has become more of an American holiday than a Christian one. Grocery stores give out candy canes to little children at the checkout counters, banks and other institutions take the day off, and winter break is scheduled around it. Every American in one backwards way or another celebrates Christmas. So in this day and age, why not do the same for Chanukah? Dunkin’ Donuts could easily have blowout sales on jelly-filled donuts, toy stores could sell dreidels at two for the price of one, and grocery store clerks could hand out gelt (chocolate coins) instead of candy canes in the checkout lines.
But we’re getting away from the true point of Chanukah. It’s a time to celebrate the survival of the Jewish people, the miracle of the oil, and the love of our family. So break out those deep friers, let your children play with fire, and gamble away your holiday money with a dreidel. From a secular perspective these traditions are awesome. Because realistically, what American doesn’t like playing with fire, eating deep fried food, and gambling? So the next time you are walking around during the Holiday season and see a Christmas tree missing a star, don’t be afraid, climb on up there and plant a Star of David and spread the word of Chanukah. Besides, most people won’t even know what that is anyway.
This idea of commercializing Chanukah isn’t something
Happy Holidays.
“I need the newest iPad. I guess it doesn’t have to be the newest, but if it’s not an iPad then screw Christmas 2012.” - Kayla A., senior
“Easy. I want to find an unlimited gift card to Taco Bell. I will eat so many tacos. Seriously, you have no idea.” - Mark J., Junior
The Top 10
Ways to be Sent Over the Edge Leading Up to Finals 10.) Driving to an exam and getting stuck behind a Clarke County driver: There must be a device planted on every car with a Clarke license plate that causes it to drive 10 miles per hour under the speed limit. So much for being on time for your final, oh, and you still crashed your car into theirs.
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9.) Someone taking your drink at the SLC Jittery Joe’s: The only reprieve from studying is that cup of coffee for which you wait in the line from hell. So when someone snatches your order because it’s apparently too hard to remember what theirs was, the Jittery Joe’s countertop belongings will be scattered across the floor. 8.) Your parents calling to see how studying is going: Dear old mom and dad just want to make sure you’re on the right track with your studies. Who can blame them? Well, probably the same people who would blame you for sobbing and screaming at your parents for making you go to college. 7.) Fire alarms in the dorms being pulled in the middle of the night: You manage to get to bed at a decent hour. As fate would have it, that’s the night some drunk asshole decides to pull the fire alarm. That was also the night people recall seeing you rip your clothes off and run into the night screaming, “I can’t take it anymore.” 6.) Not knowing a blue book was needed for an exam: You made it on time and you’re prepared. Until you realize you needed a blue book and completely forgot. Who can blame you for cracking and throwing a chair across the room? 5.) In an exam, sitting next to that person who just won’t stop sniffling: Some people missed the day in kindergarten when you’re taught how to operate a tissue, so instead they torture classrooms with their cold symptom sounds. This is one of the few situations where you can shove a box of tissues up someone’s ass without being considered the rude one. 4.) Having five exams and hearing your friends complain about their one non-cumulative final: Nobody likes one-uppers. But it’s not one-upping if you have five exams on the last two days of finals, your friend is complaining about their minimal amount of work and you begin screaming every stressor you have at them. 3.) Those people who come to the SLC just to hang out: Every semester there are those people who go to the SLC to just loudly rub in everyone’s face that they are done with finals. No one’s going to stop you when you walk over and give them a slap. 2.) You come home from a long night of studying and find your roommate having sex… in your bed: There’s a good chance dawn is breaking outside and all you want to do is crawl into bed. Unfortunately for you, your roommate has a checklist of places to have sex and your bed was open for business. Unfortunately for your roommate, that was the final straw. 1.) Your coffee maker breaks: Computer breaks? Bank account breaks? Meh. You can handle them later. But your soul song and life force is broken? Time to freak out, because the Mayans were right.
Katie Weimer wrote this
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Slopes and Dope Sarra Sedghi wrote this
Do you have vacation plans for winter break? No? Well, make them. Yes? Well, change them. In the wake of some fantastic new legislation, Colorado has legalized marijuana for recreational use and has subsequently become the best new vacation spot for the holidaze (well, Washington also legalized marijuana and could be a contender as well, but who gives a shit about Washington besides Twilight fans? And even Stephenie Meyer makes that place look horrible). We know that for the past several weeks, all you’ve been able to associate Colorado with is a giant marijuana leaf, seeing as it’sthe state’s new emblem. However, it is extremely important to remember the other things that come to mind—or used to come to mind, anyway—at the mere mention of Colorado’s name. Okay, here’s a hint. Mountains. Snow. Most of you guys don’t even know what snow is, we know—Colorado is a bona fide winter wonderland. If you’ve never experienced a snow day—and no, a wintry mix day doesn’t count—then think about the ones you’ve seen on TV. Imagine yourself making snow angels and snowmen, chucking snowballs at your neighbors, and drinking hot chocolate, all while wearing so many coats you can hardly move. Yes, just like Randy from A Christmas Story. Now imagine yourself doing these things while you’re stoned. Doesn’t it all seem so much better? Think of all those wonderful winter foods and how much better they’d taste if you were scarfing them down while you had the munchies.
But wait, there’s more! We haven’t even covered all the quintessential winter activities that Colorado has to offer! Don’t think for a second that we would ignore skiing or snowboarding—you can smoke some dope and hit the slopes. Racing down those hills will be a rush. Or, if you’re feeling a little goofy, you could just sit on the snow and slide to the bottom of the run. Why the hell not? Or, do you think you’ll be in the mood to chill? Ride the ski lift up the mountain… then ride it back down… then keep riding it (make sure you put that safety rail/footrest down so some idiot won’t jump or slide off and break any bones, or, you know, die). You could also sit in front of one of the fireplaces in the lodge and chow down copious amounts of chili… Mmm, chili. Go ice-skating and convince yourself that you’re flying. You can do the same thing with sledding. Eat some popcorn. Eat more chili. Hell, eat some snow, just so you can say you did. Do the other things they sing about in Christmas carols. They’ll be even better since you’ll be stoned. Does Colorado sound like the ideal winter break destination to you? Then get up on those mountains already. We know Xzibit didn’t legislate recreational marijuana use in Colorado on his own (or at all, because he doesn’t even live there), but let’s just pretend he did for a minute. He’d have a great catchphrase to go along with this, and maybe he’d even pimp your snowmobile: “Yo dawg, I heard you liked getting high so we legalized weed in Colorado so you can get high while you’re getting high.” So get to it. Get away, get to Colorado, and, most importantly—get high (legally).
How the Mitt Sold Christmas alex everard wrote this Mr. Romney sat atop Mount Mitt, with his iPhone 6 and tightly-nit polo sweater Staring down at America, those dimwits and forty-seven percenters He plotted real hard, he plotted with malice—just how to avenge those who cast the wrong ballot He could buy all their businesses, flip them, and sell ‘em for profit! He could drown the whole country with his Marvelous Money Faucet! Alas, it struck him—an idea of pure gold Mitt would steal all their toys and sell China the molds!
“Oh no, little boy, I’m getting them fixed! Only the Chinese can mend this PlayStation disc!” Billy seemed suspicious, but Mitt said, “Blame Obama” Then he drove his Porsche home and prepared for the drama Christmas Day he awoke early, laughing and stumbling “Oh boy, I can’t wait to watch the middle-class crumbling!” But that didn’t happen, much to Mitt’s confusion Americans seemed sad, but not disillusioned
Yes that would surely ruin this holiday season For all the middle-class kids and blue-color heathens He strapped his dog to the roof of his Porsche Down Mount Mitt he flew, screaming, “Romney SELLS Christmas, of course!” He broke into the houses with their measly two stories And stole the twerps’ toys to reap all the glory He was almost finished, just one more house to rob ‘Twas a house in Detroit, and Mitt laughed ‘til he sobbed
“Oh well,” they all sighed, “Looks like another recession” “We lost all the toys but we won’t lose the lesson” They gathered around the tree in Rockefeller Center And began to sing songs with cheer and great splendor Just then, they say, while we ignored the worst for the best Something strange happened beneath Mitt’s money vest His heart began beating, and beating quite fast His heart beat so much it began to gain mass! It grew and it grew until it could grow no more! Then Mitt shouted, with a tear, “It’s not your fault that you’re poor!”
But he made sure to stop in Detroit before he left To see Billy Bluecollar and give him the rest
“HA! This place; what a terrible city! Would have gone bankrupt underneath Ole Mitty!” He waltzed right in, without even having to knock And said under his breath, “LAWL, too poor to buy locks!” He took all the toys, but as he readied to dash Little Billy Bluecollar appeared, covered in trash “What are you doing, mister? Aren’t those my toys?” Mitt relied on debate strategy to remain calm and coy
He jumped in his Porsche and down Mount Mitt he shot Throwing toys and wads of money at every spot The kids began yelling, “It’s Ole Mitt, he’s back! I knew he’d fix our toys without any flack!” “Yes, kids, your Ole Mitt saved the day! And I fixed all these toys the American way!” He made it rain in New York, Chicago, and Tennessee He made it rain on ‘dem kids from sea to shining sea
“Here you go, Billy, enough for a billion new games” And Mitt handed little Billy all the money from Bain “Wow, Mister Romney, that’s millions of dollars!” “Just say thank you, Little Billy, and fix your blue collar” And with that, he was gone, back up to Mount Mitt Where he still lives lavishly, but learned quite a bit Yes as the story goes, as all the history books say Mitt Romney’s small heart grew six sizes that day.
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THURSDAY 11/29
$3 Pitchers $2 Wells
$2 Wells & Domestics $3 Wine, $3 Bacardi $4 Jack 3 Bombs for $10
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tuesday 12/4
$2 All Bottled Beer
$2 Wells & Domestics $3 Wine, $3 Bacardi 3 Bombs for $10
Dollar Night $1 Shots/Shooters $1 Wells $5 Moonshine Margarita
Taco Tuesday! $1 Pulled Pork Tacos 7pm - 10pm 10pm - 2am: $2.75 Drafts Happy Hour 4pm - 7pm
WED. 12/5
$2 Wells $2 Domestics
$2 Wells and Domestics $3 Wine, $3 Bacardi 3 Bombs for $10
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Happy Hour 4pm - 11pm! Koozie Night 11pm - 2am! $1 Tallboys $2 Drinks & Shots
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WED. 12/5
Happy Hour 4pm - 11pm! After 11: Karaoke with Kenny! $1 Shots, $3 Drinks
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$1.50 PBR Happy Hour Specials 4PM-9PM
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Power Hour 9pm - 11pm: $1 Well Drinks $4 Firefly Drinks All Night
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Power Hour! $1 Drinks & Shots until 11pm
FRI. 11/30
$1.50 PBR Come Party on the Patio!
$2 Natty Tall Boys $3 Crystal Light Drinks Power Hour from 9-11! $1 Wells & High Life Drafts $2 Shooters
Power Hour 9pm - 11pm: $1 Well Drinks $4 Firefly Drinks All Night
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MON. 12/3
$1.25 High Life Drafts $3 Tullamore Dew
$2 Pitchers, $2 Wine $2 Moonshine Drinks and Shots Power Hour from 9-11! $1 Wells & High Life Drafts $2 Shooters
$2 Vodka Well Drinks $2 High Life Pitchers $4 Skinny Girl Cucumber Vodka Drinks $5 Wine Bottles $5 Bottles of Wine
$1 Tuesdays $1 Cover $1 House Shots $4 18oz Coors Light 2 for 1 Vip and Floor Dances ALL Night!
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TUES. 12/4
$1.50 Off All Pitchers! $2.50 Lone Star Tall Boys $3.50 Bells Beers
$1 Wine $1 Crystal Light Drinks Power Hour from 9-11! $1 Wells & High Life Drafts $2 Shooters
$2 Well Drinks
$2 Cover, $3 Shots $4 18oz Coors Light 2 for 1 VIP and Floor Dances until 8PM
Ladies Night! $1 Wells
WED. 12/5
Power Hour 9pm - 11pm: $1 Well Drinks $4 Firefly Drinks All Night
Power Hour 9pm - 11pm: $1 Well Drinks $4 Firefly Drinks All Night
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bartender of the week kayla m. the bury Relationship Status: In a relationship Major: English Favorite shot: Surfer on acid. Jager, coconut rum, and pineapple juice. Best served in the Jager ski shot! Worst drink ever: Gin and tonic. Bleh. Are you a fan of Dubstep? Why or why not: I suppose so! I’m completely tone deaf, so I don’t listen to a lot of music on my own. When I’m out or when I’m bartending, I prefer things that are catchy and that I can dance to. This really results in me liking a lot of really bad music, like “Call Me Maybe.” Which professional sport has the most attractive athletes? Any person in particular: Sumo Wrestling. Followed closely by competitive eating. Which fast food restaurant will you never be caught dead eating at? Why: Arby’s. Gross. What TV show reminds you most of your childhood? Why: Scooby Doo! I had pneumonia in 4th grade and missed two weeks of school. I spent most of my time watching Scooby Doo, so that’s always the first thing I think of.
the drinking game
The Name Game Sure, you may know a guy named Jeff or Dan or Bill, but who cares? They’re not famous. This game is a veritable who’s who of fame and fortune. So, yeah, you should know some celebs stepping into this. Or Jack Daniels. He’s nice too. Number of Players: As many Jane and John Does as you can fit at the table. What You Need: Beer, access to a celebrity gossip website. Intoxication Level: Robert Downey Jr., Danny DeVito drunk. How to Play: - The game begins with one player saying the name of a famous person. - The player to go next must say the name of a different famous person whose name begins with the first letter of the last name of the famous person just said. - While a person is thinking of a name they must be drinking, but if they are unable to think of a name they must finish the drink. To save yourself from this, bluff names can be made up, and if no one notices then the game continues. - Aliases may not be used. For example, “Ghostface Killah” would not be an acceptable answer, but “Dennis Coles” would. - Play goes on until beer runs out. - Below are additional rules added to spice up the game: - If a name is said that has the same letter for the first and last names then the direction of the game changes. - If someone says a single word name such as Usher or Raewkon then the next person is skipped. - If someone says a triple name, such as Sarah Jessica Parker, then everyone must drink. The Game Ends When: You start naming cast members from Weekend at Bernie’s II. (Terry Kiser!)
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Would you rather jam to the Backstreet Boys or *NSYNC? Why: *NSYNC without a doubt. I was absolutely in love with Lance Bass in middle school. I was heartbroken when he came out. What reality TV show is the best at making you feel like a better human being? Reason: I have a love-hate relationship with this truly awful MTV show called Friend Zoned. It’s terrible. People go on it who are in love with their best friends under the premise of going on a blind date. So their best friend helps them prepare, gives them advice and drops them off at the date, only to told that it’s all fake and the date is really for them. 9/10 is painfully awkward and soul-crushing, but also incredibly entertaining. If someone forced you to watch a specific movie five times in one day, which movie are you choosing? Why: I could watch Silence of the Lambs on loop. I love that movie, which makes me seem kinda creepy I guess. In your opinion, which female celebrity has the body of a Goddess: Beyonce. Not even a question.
Recipe for Disaster
Ooey Gooey Chocolate chief Brownies There’s nothing better than the good old-fashioned brownies that grandma used to make. Well, unless you mix some pot in it, too! Don’t let your conscience or DEA relative stop you from deliciousness. Waking and baking has never been so easy or tasty. What You’ll Need: 1 ounce unsweetened chocolate, 2 cups of pot butter, 2 cups white sugar, 3 eggs, 1 teaspoon vanilla extract, and 1 cup all-purpose flour. Cook Time: 35 minutes. Fatty Factor: Eating these might cause you to eat more brownies, you fatty fat. Let’s Get Baked: - Preheat oven to 350 degrees. - Microwave chocolate and pot butter in large bowl on high for 2 minutes or until butter is melted. - Stir until chocolate is melted. - Stir in sugar, eggs, vanilla, and flour. - Spread in greased 9 x 13 inch pan. - Bake for 35 minutes. You should bring these to your family’s Christmas dinner. Wouldn’t you love to see grandma ripped out of her mind? Sure, your mom would be upset, but seriously, can’t we, like, all just chill and get along?
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A Party, Carol
(Apologies to Charles Dickens) By: Brendan
T
he show was dead to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The DJ spun haplessly while the security looked onto the vacant dance floor happily. Carol had been to shows like this before, and she knew this one was dead in the water. Oh! But she was a pill-addled sound hound, Carol. She would chase MDMA with ketamine, washing down her cocktail with simultaneous hits from a nitrous tank and a bong. For this Carol was well-known in the rave scene, notorious for her love of intoxicants. Bros and hoes alike would recoil at the ghastly visage of dilated pupils and an ear-to-ear grin. But what did Carol care! It was the very thing she liked. To thrust herself into a crowded pit, with all human reckoning at a distance. She had a dozen hits of acid in her back pocket, a hitter rod, a gram of pure molly, a few bumps of coke and all the beer she could convince these loser boys to buy her. Just then Rob Crotchitch—a freshman whom Carol regularly saw at these events—scampered up. “You holding?” He asked, hopefully. “I suppose you’re not.” Carol uttered out of the side of her mouth. “If you have a hit—anything, I’ll take it.” “I don’t.” Crotchitch looked despondent, “Well, if anything does turn up, don’t forget about ole’ Robbie.” “Right,” Carol said as Rob scampered back into the fog-heavy darkness. When Carol was certain Rob could no longer see her she dashed to the restroom, set on getting her fix. Locking the stall door behind her, Carol fished in her pockets for her stash. “Get my drugs, will you, Rob?” she muttered under angry breath, “Not on my watch.” With that she swallowed everything in her possession, certain to enjoy her night alone. As she exited the bathroom Carol was shocked to see Rob Crotchitch. “What were you doing in there, Carol?” It was more accusation than question. “None of your business, Rob.” The interrogation continued, “Well then, what’s that white stuff under your nose?” Carol knew she was had. Choosing to drop any pretence of innocence, she came clean. “Yeah, so what? They’re mine. My drugs, my body.” “I’ve—I’ve,” he stammered, jaw on the floor, “I want to take psychoactives and go on adventures in my mind. I want to dance with pink elephants and talk to toad princes, and you, Carol, you’ve taken that away! A bad trip, that’s what I hope you have!” Rob danced back into the darkness. Carol stood for a moment in silence before letting out a cackle, certain to stare at a wall while contemplating the universe’s deepest secrets.
S
ome hours had passed by, loud music crawling over Carol’s body as she danced, blissfully unaware of
her surroundings. Then, in a moment her vision began to tunnel to a pinpoint. “Stay calm,” Carol thought to herself, “Keep breathing, you’ve been through this before.” Sure enough, the darkness retreated from her vision. Standing before her now was a small girl. Carol was concerned, muttering, “Little girl, what are you doing here?” “What are you doing here?” said the girl. Carol was growing suspicious. “I’m allowed to be here, you, on the other hand, it must be past your bedtime. Let’s go find a sec—“ “No Carol,” the little girl said, “what are you doing here? I’d guess a fair amount of MDMA, definitely some cocaine, and…acid?” Astonished, Carol replied, “How…what?” “Carol, I’m not a child. I’m the Ghost of Parties Past. I’d like to show you something.” Before she knew it, Carol’s vision was again narrowing, pulling back to reveal a sunny day in the back yard of her parents’ house. “Is this - ?” “Yes Carol, it is,” the ghost assured her. “And this isn’t just any old day. It’s July 30th, 1999.” “My seventh birthday?”
or something?” Carol snapped her head back at the Ghost of Parties Present saying, “That’s me!” before hearing it echo behind her moments later. “It most certainly is, but look again.” Carol did, and her shock slowly turned to embarrassment. She was staring blankly into the distance, muttering nonsense to an illusion no one else could see. Behind her were boys and girls pointing, sniggering, mocking a girl destined for YouTube shame.
“Like I said, two hours. I’m not going to let this wedding go to shit because you can’t get your head out of your own ass.” Carol’s mind started racing. She’d like to have gotten married a little earlier in life, but she couldn’t object to this. “Yes, the name’s Robert Crotchitch.” Her heart sank. She spun around to confront the Ghost of Parties Future.
The Ghost of Parties Present whispered, “This is what you defend?”
“Just what in the hell is this? There’s no way I’m marrying fuckin’ Rob Crotchitch.”
“I don’t have to answer to anyone, get me out of—“ Just then her vision began to go dim before snapping back. She turned her head intending to confront those standing behind her laughing. Instead, there stood a withered old woman taking a drag off of a cigarette.
“I know you’re not, just watch.” Soon enough out strolled a young 20-something woman. Beautiful, tall, lithe, she walked up to Robert and kissed him softly. Rob looked mildly distressed.
Just then a small girl ran outside, flitting left and right giggling, smiling, with cake frosting covering her face.
“A
“Baby, I’m not supposed to see you until the ceremony.”
“Mom, look! Butterflies!” The young girl squealed.
“I’d have thought you’d have this figured out by now,” the woman ashed her cigarette on the floor.
“I know,” the model said, “but I just wanted to say again…”
“Well, can you just do the vision thing so we can get this over with?”
“I know.”
The ghost looked sadly at Carol. “Yes, your seventh birthday. Look at how carefree you are. Hopped up on nothing more than sugar and irrational love of butterflies, you’re enjoying life. No drugs, no beer, no vague nihilistic sense that everything is for naught.”
nd who the hell are you?”
“Certainly.”
Tears were welling up in Carol’s eyes but she fought them back, defending herself. “Yeah, but things are different now. Life’s different—it’s harder, I have class and work and things are just…different now.”
Moments later Carol found herself at the doorstep of a large mansion. Perfectly-manicured shrubs nestled up against an ark of a house. She turned around to see a driveway lined with unpronounceable Italian cars.
“Yes Carol, they are,” the Ghost of Parties Past said as Carol’s vision again began to tunnel.
“This doesn’t seem so bad.”
A
The Ghost of Parties Future agreed, “You’re right, let’s head inside.”
s Carol regained her vision there was a boy of her age dressed in a white collared shirt and black dress slacks standing in front of her. “And you are?” she asked flatly. She was getting the hang of this. “I’m the Ghost of Parties Present.” “I supposed you’re taking me to see some more butterflies or something, right?” Carol was getting annoyed. “Show me that everything’s still wonderful if you’re willing to just…I don’t know, be a moron who lets out her inner child, or something?” The Ghost of Parties Present remained calmly distant, “No Carol, I’d just like you to turn around.” She did, just in time to see an oddly familiar face saying, “…know, be a moron who lets out her inner child,
Carol and the apparition winded through endless hallways for what seemed like hours, never running into another soul. Finally, Carol heard some conversation in the distance.
Carol looked at the ghost, “What is the meaning of all this?” The Ghost of Parties Future lit up another menthol, sucking in a lungful of smoke. “Earlier tonight you denied Rob Crotchitch anything. Hurt, he left. Walking home he had an idea—a way to improve distribution models for pharmaceutical companies the world over. He threw himself into the idea. By the time he was 25 he was already worth hundreds of millions of dollars. He sold, retired early, and lives his dreams, all because you chose not to give him a hit of acid.” “But—“
“What? No. I said I needed you to make sure the roses were delivered this morning.”
“There’s no buts about it, Carol. While you burn out, he burns bright. You helped him get to where he is, no doubt, but he doesn’t owe you a damn thing.”
Carol smiled, she loved roses.
Carol was beginning to panic, “And what about me?”
“Listen, they need to be here in two hours or I’m simply not paying for them.”
“Not a damn thing…” the words rung in Carol’s ears as her vision again narrowed. When she came to she was lying in her bed. It was morning.
And he’s assertive. Carol looked at the ghost and smiled. The ghost looked grim. “Let’s keep walking,” she said. Soon they turned a corner. A man in his late forties continued to argue over the phone.
“I’m never doing drugs again,” she thought to herself. Moments later she sucked a hit of weed from a bowl, intent on napping away last night’s nightmare. “Well, no more drugs, starting tomorrow.”
the interview
nick waterhouse
Nick Waterhouse, a self-described California rhythm and blues man, knows his roots, and he funks the fuck out of them. On tour in Europe, he happily answered some of our questions about his breed of music. By: Brendan The Black Sheep: When it comes to songwriting, how do you approach it? Nick Waterhouse: I’ve found that some songs begin as larger, vague conceptions, like a fog, where I have this blob of rhythm and sounds, as well as concept or theme. Then I have to squint harder through the fog to figure it out. It’s almost like attempting to “remember” the parts, like I’m remembering something I never knew. It’s very close to the feeling of waking and trying to recall specifics of a dream. Once I’ve sorted that out, I find it’s often the rhythms that come about. I’ll have a rhythm or drum part with notes that often follow those in my mind. It’s the same with fragments of words. Some songs have lines that are years old that I’ve scratched somewhere that take on a different dimension. The material on Time’s All Gone, much of it was being prepared for live performance while I was developing it, so I would approach my musicians and say, “Drums, repeat this bit.” Then I’m having the bass do a figure that makes sense, or giving people chords to fall under. It’s really adding layers and layers after that, and following the changes I had mapped out before involving other people. TBS: When you’re recording a song does it have to be perfect before you’re happy with it, or do little flaws add a certain amount of honesty to the music? NW: Strangers tell me I make really over-perfect music, and strangers tell me I make really flawed music. What I will say is that I refuse to do anything until I feel it’s right, and only I know what that is. I really believe in an organic approach to performance and recording, but having high standards. TBS: You obviously have a lot of R&B/soul influences, how did you get interested in that kind of music? NW: People talk about how language works in the brain, and what your “native” inner voice is thinking in. I always heard things like Van Morrison, BB King, John Lee Hooker, Aretha Franklin, soul or R&B, whatever you’d like to call it, growing up. I also heard a lot of those sounds reflected in things that were rock and roll, whether it was Elvis Costello, Tom Petty, Kinks, Stones, whatever. You know, when you are 15 and you are fantasizing about performing “Daddy Rolling Stone” in a sweaty club, and not about winning a baseball game, or shredding guitar, or driving off in a new Mercedes with a babe, it’s the sort of a personal truth that might tell you where your heart is. TBS: Do you ever worry that your music may be -- for lack of a better term -- too old school for modern listeners? NW: I only worry about it when people want to talk to me about it. I really didn’t care when I made all the music you hear on the record. I really, really didn’t care because I am a modern person and I was making something that made absolute sense to me in the present -- which really had nothing to do with eras, and had a lot more to do with combination of personality, artistry, and craftsmanship. TBS: The “Some Place” video looked like it was a riot to make; any good stories come out of it? NW: The best part of that video was the fact that we ran out of fake champagne bottles in the rental limo scene, and had to do take after take of me with the real deal. By the end of that shoot it was definitely beyond method. TBS: For something like that video, is it actually fun to do, or is it work making it look like that much fun? NW: It is work unless you’re getting drunk. But then you’re drunk on champagne, not my favorite feeling, and having to continue shooting as your buzz wears off and the headache sets in. TBS: Your brand of music translates really well to a live show, but what’s your approach to live music? NW: Every song is a case-by-case basis, and should be performed as such. To me, one disconnect I have noticed is that I cut much of my album very live, so people are thrown by how much I manage to get the same sound in a live setting, almost as if they’ve been conditioned to expect less. The thing is, all the recordings were sung and played 110%, so if you get that live feeling, you shouldn’t feel cheated. TBS: What do you think is the best thing to happen to music in the last 10 years? NW: The internet. TBS: The worst? NW: What everyone did with the internet. The continued perpetuation of the same methods under the guise of liberation. Pitchfork is essentially the Castro regime of music culture -- they represent the largest potential promise of a new kind of society that became a dictatorship as bad as or worse than the one it replaced. TBS: What band did you like as a child that that today you’re like, “Really, Nick? Them?” NW: Reggie and the Full Effect. Adolescence was very confusing. TBS: If you could have a mythological creature as a pet, what would you choose and why? NW: Easy. Mermaid. It would be like I had Bimbo’s 365 club floor in my living room. Slightly erotic, not much cleanup. I’m really an ocean person at heart.
the big three
entertainment-y things we’re all excited about.
Killing Them Softly In Theaters November 30th Based off the 1974 novel Cogan’s Trade, this gangster crime film stars impossibly sexy Brad Pitt as a professional enforcer who investigates a heist that occurs during a high-stakes, mob-protected poker game. Assumedly lots of crime and shady business happens in-between the all star cast, featuring actors continuing to get rich off of Italian stereotypes, James Gandolfini and Ray Liotta. Award season, here they come!
Catfish: The TV Show Monday, December 3rd at 11pm on MTV Nev Shulman’s TV show brain-child (inspired by his own online relationship gone awry) showcases yet another couple who’ve developed a supposedly very real online relationship and are mad in love. In this episode, two young people are fittin’ to meet IRL after two years of hot and heaving texting. Will it be a catfish, or will it be true love?
Ke$ha - Warrior Out December 4th The glittery passed-out Princess of Pop seems to be turning a new leaf on her second studio album, Warrior. Coming off of a spiritual journey where she “just needed to play with animals,” Ke$ha came back to record a magical album that finally shows her relatively decent pipes. Listen to her lead single “Die Young,” and check out her Bob Dylan cover of “Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright” to hear those impressive vocals.
All nighter l i brary Drinking game You’ll be stuck in the library for the better part of this week. And if you’re not stuck in the library, you’ll be thinking about how you should be in the library studying instead of “taking a break before the next exam” by taking shots of absinthe up the keister. Never fear, with The Black Sheep’s Library Drinking Game, you can pull an all-nighter in the library while taking a booze break at the same time! No more guilt for you, it’s all good grades from here on out!
8 p.m. – 11 p.m.
3 a.m. – 5 a.m.
Take a drink for every fleeting feeling of confidence you have. Take a drink every time you think “I’ve got plenty of time!” Take drink when you think about regulating your caffeine intake. Take two drinks for every video you catch yourself watching instead of studying. Take two drinks every time you catch yourself deep in the random acquaintance area of Facebook. Take five drinks when you realize you’ve been here three hours and haven’t even opened your book.
Take a drink after “one chapter down, nine to go!” Take a drink when you realize you’re the only person in the library. Take a drink when it’s time to get another coffee. Take a drink when you have to “Just get up and walk around a little bit.” Take two drinks when you forlornly look out the window for twenty minutes. Take three drinks while having acidic, molten coffee craps. Finish your drink when you start heading home, then turn around and GET BACK IN THE GOD DAMN LIBRARY.
11 p.m. – 1 a.m.
5 a.m. – 8 a.m.
Take a drink when you finally open your book. Take a drink every time someone comes and goes from your table. Take two drinks if you decide you’ll concentrate better in one of those cube things. Take two drinks every time library security walks by. Take two drinks when you spend 10 minutes organizing iTunes. Finish your drink if you start spending more time asking around for Adderall than actually studying.
Take a drink when you decide it’s nap time, again. Take a drink when you hit snooze, then flip everyone off for glaring at you because your phone just blew up. Take two drinks when you write a “Genius sentence, the real kicker to this paper, the one that solidifies an A” but it’s the only sentence you’ve written so far. Take two drinks when a librarian tells you not to lean back in your chair. Finish your drink when you think “I studied drunk so that means I have to take the test drunk. Because science.”
1 a.m. – 3 a.m.
8 a.m. – test time
Take a drink when you think “Being drunk in the library is actually pretty fun!” Take a drink when you wake up with the pages of your book stuck you your face. Take a drink for every other person sleeping in the library. Take two drinks to wash down the third bag of Hot Cheetos you just bought from the vending machine. Take two drinks every time you start sweating. Take three drinks when you “accidentally” start looking at porn. Finish your drink when you start crafting a sob-story excuseemail to your professor.
Take a drink when you think “fuck school, man, life is for livin’”. Take a drink when the sun comes up. Take two drinks when an overwhelming, albeit false sense of accomplishment washes over you. Take two drinks when you realize there have been other students soberly plugging away for three straight days. Take three drinks when you see someone else from your class. (Four if they’re drunk too.) Take five drinks when you start walking to the wrong final. Finish your drink when your professor grants you permission to miss the final. Really finish your drink when you realize you now have to kill your grandma.
the crossword
in the year 2000
Across 3) One of the official Olympic mascots was a native bird. 7) He lost to George W. 8) 2000 marked the start of a new this. 9) Sean Parker’s website that got sued by Metallica. 12) The fastest selling rap album of all time happened this year, by this white boy. 14) John Mellencamp received a Doctorate of Music from this university. 19) N*SYNC set a first-week sales record with this album. 20) This show gave us a glimpse into some ballin’ pads.
10) These Olympics were down under. 11) This country got second at the Olympics. 13) This pop princess won Best New Artist. 15) The Academy Award for Best Picture. 16) The Razz for Worst Film, starring Will, Will Smith. 17) Had the sketch “In The Year 2000.” 18) This artist changed his name back from his former unpronounceable symbol.
Down 1) This team won their third straight World Series championship. 2) This city won the Super Bowl. 4) This lady-focused TV channel launched in February. 5) Cory’s universe ended this year. 6) This artist won a record 8 Grammy’s in one night, tying Michael Jackson’s 1984 record.
Answers
Meet The Staff campus manager Cutler Sheridan Editorial manager Cutler Sheridan Advertising Managers Megan Thompson Sibonee Latty Writers Riley Humes, Jess Wise Katherine Weimer, Wes Allen Alex Edelstein, Sarra Sedghi Nikita Joy, Walker Smith photographer You? Come on... distribution manager Sierra Moore pr/Marketing TEAM Sierra Moore
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