The Black Sheep FR
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... li al ke d l w ri ee nks ke nd fro lo m a ng lu mn !
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• a college newspaper that’s actually about college •
Volume 7, Issue 7 10/10/12 -10/17/12
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The International Bacon Shortage: An Emergency Manual alex everard wrote this
Attention fellow attractive human beings and not-so attractive human beings. I have just received information detailing an ominous and unavoidable event fast approaching mankind. In the coming weeks, the United States will experience a crisis that has the potential to be more devastating than the Great Depression in terms of psychological depression alone. Sadly, and I’m typing this through tears, there will be an indefinite bacon shortage. Now, as a nation, it’s important that you stay calm and remain rational during this intense period of hardship. You may sob uncontrollably. You may not want to get out of bed. You may even consider drowning the kids in the bathtub just to spare them from having to exist in a world where bacon is scarce. However, we must carry on and stay strong, America. It will be tough, but we will be able to get through this. We have made it through World Wars, Red Scares, and all those terrible remakes of the Hulk movies; we can make it through this. As true advocates for the common man, we’ve compiled a list of methods to employ during these dark, porkless days of nonexistent hope and bacon as a cruel, tantalizing fantasy. Do Not Eat Turkey Bacon: Just don’t do it. This is the single most important thing to remember in order to survive the crisis. Eating turkey bacon as a substitute for real bacon during this shortage will produce only one regretful outcome: The unjust imitation flavor will root itself in the taste-perception sector of the brain, seek out the area specifically tailored to enjoy bacon (the Baconomous Orgasmagada), and erase all memory of that rich, authentic piggy flavor. Once the shortage ends, and I assure you it eventually will, you will never be able to taste real bacon the same way. Ration Your Stock: If you’re smart you’ll stock up on fatty, bacony, meaty goodness RIGHT NOW. Seriously, stop reading - go to the nearest Meijer or pig farm, and stock up like you’re preparing for nuclear winter. Okay, now that you’re back - freeze eighty percent of the bacon you’ve just purchased and cook the other twenty percent of it immediately. Indulge like you’re a portly chubster back home after a summer at fat camp. Basically, eat until you feel like never want to eat bacon again. This feeling lasts, on average, six hours. Bacon-God willing, this will buy you enough time to ride out the first quarter day of the shortage in a bacon-induced coma. The remaining eighty percent should be rationed at two percent a day, allowing you to survive the first forty days of the shortage.
Girl Porn: Secret Turn-Ons Revealed
Avoid People Who Don’t Eat Bacon: Whether they’re vegetarians, vegans, poor, or non-baconavours for religious reasons, they will surely be a negative influence on your struggle. They will say things like, “I don’t see the big deal - it’s just bacon,” or, “I can’t believe there have been twenty-eight people murdered over bacon this weekend,” or “What a-boot some Canadian bacon, eh?” Now, unless they’re talking about the hilarious comedic romp with John Candy, you walk away from that person right now. Get together with your bacon-loving friends and form a support pack to stay positive. Pray to Bacon: When all else fails after your emergency stock runs out and your comrades have been murdered in their secret bacon freezer by one of the bacon cartels, just pray. “Bacon, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to
change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. In Bacon’s hallowed name, Amen." Don’t Jump: Although it is known that life is meant solely for the enjoyment of bacon, and life without such happiness is empty and pointless, do not kill yourself. Times are hard, but bacon will return from the heavens and decide who has been worthy of enjoyment while condemning those turkey-bacon eating sinners to eternal, baconless, damnation. Follow these rules, and keep them in your pocket. In your darkest moments, pull this tattered article from your ham wallet and know that we’re with you. Perchance, if we meet in heaven, we can watch Kevin Bacon films together in a bacon-woven hammock while rubbing Baconators on our genitals.
what’s inside
Isolated: The Timeline of an All-Nighter
Oh yeah girl, watch me weave that Fishtail braid. over, under, and through, baby.
Wait, where's the part where we break down in tears and consider suicide?
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Go Beyond Beyond Coal coal Yeah, like "global warming" is
^
! I nds mo Dia
real. The earth's not even a globe, dummies, it's flat!
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That time of the year when fall can't make up it's mind.
Meet The Staff campus managers Ziev Beresh & Justin Gawel
photographer Bailey Paskiewicz
Advertising ManagerS Victoria Bujny, Andrew Meggert Zach Martin, Michael Zalewsky
campus director Quinn Myers
Writers Alex Everard, Cody Manthei Phillip Keller, Hannah Borland Zoe Kremke, Garrison Rasmusen Andrew Rickerman, Zach Wyrzykowski, Jess Martinelli distribution manager Cara Stevens
owner Atish Doshi Founders Atish Doshi, Brendan Bonham, Heather Jo Erickson, Jimmy DeBlasio, Jessica Sommers, Quinn Myers, Evan Stone Questions? info@theblacksheeponline.com Advertising? ads@theblacksheeponline.com
Disclaimer The Black Sheep in no way promotes, encourages or supports binge drinking, and/or under-age drinking. This newspaper is designed for entertainment purposes only and does not recommend attempting anything printed in this publication. Please drink...responsibly and legally.
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Girl Porn: Secret Turn-Ons Revealed! Zoe Kremke wrote this Do you ever see two girls sitting together, leaning in close, and chattering like two squirrels while casting furtive glances at some guy across the room? We all have. What men rarely understand is what has drawn them to this guy. After all, he seems average enough. Wrong. If only the unsuspecting men of the world had some kind of a guide to help them navigate the secret turn-ons that girls keep hidden—Wait, oh snap! As of now, they do. Let’s take a peek inside the things that really get the ladies going. Man-Tivities: Maybe it’s primal, maybe us girls are just genetically wired to love manly-men, but men who fish, hunt, lumberjack, climb Mt. Everest, or slay dragons (D&D dragons have the inverse effect) are exceedingly hotter than those who don’t. Okay, maybe you haven’t exactly got your Sherpa license yet, but the point still stands. If you have an entire album of pictures dedicated to your outdoor man-ventures, believe me, we’ve noticed. Flaunt Your Femininity: On the flip side, we’re not looking for Thor (maybe Chris Hemsworth though). We don’t always want to be the damsel in distress, because frankly it’s goddamn tiring. We both know that girls would make better boyfriends then most men, so we’re not expecting the bold and strapping, Lieutenant Magnus Powers Rockefeller 24/7. We want a guy who’s not afraid to sing along with TSwift or Jordin Sparks when the mood strikes. It shows us that you’re comfortable, and that we don’t always have to be the “girly” one. Which is a relief, because let’s face it - we’re getting sick of being the only ones ordering salad and reading Fifty Shades of Grey. It’s All In the Accessories: Want to get noticed? Girls notice the small shit. If we had a dime for every time the phrases, “Those are such sexy glasses,” or “Did you see how amazing he looks in a baseball hat?” crossed our lips, we would be rich off just talking about Mark McGrath - let alone the rest of the men out there. Invest in accessories, we promise they'll pay off. Do Dad Things: This might sound creepy and weird. It is. Get over it. Put on your best “Dad” sweater (you know the one, elbow patches and snowflake print), and rock it proudly. The more you hold babies, willingly involve yourself in family photos, and wear khakis, the more we’ll like you. Every girl you talk to will say it’s because it makes you seem like you’ll be a good dad, which
Homeless vs. Hipster Phil Keller wrote this
is true. But what they won’t tell you is that you’re filling some attention-starved childhood void that they refuse to recognize aloud. Write a Check: That’s right, pay your bills. Whip out that debit card with the $40 limit in front of her. You’re just going about your daily activities while she’s thinking, “Ooh, he has a bank account like a real adult? Mmmmm, financial stability, house with a picket fence, fighting with his parents on Christmas, oooohh boy!” Same goes with having a job. Casually drop that into conversation, and she’ll be all over your gainfully-employed ass, you productive member of society, you. Owning (and Knowing How To Use) Cleaning Supplies: Be it Lysol or Pledge, you had better own some sort of product that’s sanitation related. Don’t you believe anyone who tells you otherwise - ladies are like ninjas and we will unsuspectingly check under the sinks in the house to make sure that these products are there. It’s more than a bottle of cleaning fluid; it’s a symbol of your maturity as a human being. Get on that shit, duders. There you have it, a little glimpse into the world that is girl porn. Do yourselves a favor and eavesdrop the next time you see those girls whispering feverishly over some so-so guy. We guarantee that more unexpected secret turn-ons will be unveiled.
Fashion trends are looking more and more like the “Derelict” campaign from Zoolander. As a result, it’s getting harder and harder to tell the difference between a fashion-forward douchebag and a homeless vagrant. Well, don’t worry, The Black Sheep is here to help you sort it all out— with a comprehensive guide to the subtle, yet important distinctions between those people we ignore on the street and homeless people.
all fair game for either group. The only way to tell the difference below the button-down is by judging the subject’s demeanor. Is he wearing the clothes with a sort of forlorn hopelessness, or is it more like ironic detachment? Skinny jeans are a dead giveaway. If you see a homeless person wearing skinny jeans, please send pictures to The Black Sheep immediately. For study, of course, not trading cards.
These two smelly segments of society share many similarities with one another, making the line between homeless and hipster blurrier than an Instagram photo of the vegan meal the latter just ate. One of the first things you'll notice is the beard, a trend adopted by both homeless and hipster alike. Hipster beards have grown in popularity over the last few years, growing in length as well. One can no longer simply distinguish between the two beards by length or general scraggliness. Smell is the only true giveaway, and this method is not recommended. If you do try it, though, a hipster’s beard will have the distinct aroma of PBR and Marlboro 27s, while the homeless beard smells of Old Crow and cigarette butts from a variety of brands. A subtle, but important difference. Also, mustaches are entirely hipster.
Both groups have a proclivity for recycling and composting. As it applies to homeless people, recycling and composting is the polite way to say collecting beer cans and depositing manure in the street. Other similar interests include: bicycling, tattoos, Parliament Funkadelic, drugs, and occupying parks for extended periods of time. Street music is a way that both hipsters and the homeless generate revenue to support their respective chemical dependencies. If the performer is playing a wind instrument or buckets, odds are you're dealing with the homeless. Stringed instruments are typically in the hipster realm, but if the instrument is missing one or more strings, we're back to homeless. The performer’s repertoire is also an indicator. The homeless typically opt for the blues, while hipsters play acoustic covers from bands with large mammals in their names.
General clothing choices are also extremely similar for both groups, because they spend enough combined time at consignment shop to be captains in the Salvation Army. The homeless shop there because these places offer wearable, previously used clothing for rock bottom prices. Hipsters flock there for the ironic tackiness of secondhand goods and Christmas sweaters. Besides, everybody knows that clothes are way cooler if the previous owner died in them. Dirty flannels, ripped pants, and destroyed shoes are
So the takeaway from today is that homeless people are just hipsters who live outside. Other than a place of residence, the differences are minimal. It just goes to show that we're not all that different after all. Five years in the future, when everybody is pushing around shopping carts and doing needle drugs to fit in, the homeless can say they did it before it was cool.
The Top 10
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Things You’ll See Alumni Do During Homecoming Homecoming is upon us, and this means that droves of alumni soon will be too. It’s funny how everyone has a perception of alumni as well-adjusted and successful MSU grads when the singular purpose of their visit is to escape real life and relive the (lack-of) glory of their college years. This makes their behavior pretty predictable. 10. Go to the Bathroom: Whether using the floor loo while visiting their dorm-dwelling offspring or simply playing “pit stop bingo” by urinating in every other building, you’re going to be extra thankful for janitors after the alumni relieve themselves of more than just real world stress on campus.
Isolated: The Timeline of an All-Nighter Hannah Borland wrote this 2:20 p.m.: You’ve really blown it this time. The professor asked you to leave yesterday because he believes that you’re “not actually enrolled in this course.” After convincing the musty scholar that you have in fact paid good dinero for the privilege of staying in bed during his lecture every day, you take a seat. Ice fills your veins as bold letters on the syllabus read “Ex a.m. 1”- scheduled for 10 a.m. the day after tomorrow. After about .04 seconds of panic, you internally guffaw at the silly birds who are slaves to regular studying. You have the ultimate weapon: the all-nighter. Launch time? Tonight. 4:00 p.m.: You’ve returned to your apartment after a long day of pretending to take notes on your computer while browsing Reddit. You can’t be expected to start studying now; you should eat something! Aren’t a proper diet and balance of work and play the keys to success? Taking this to heart, you put some chicken nuggets in the oven and get ready to watch just one episode of South Park on Netflix. 6:40 p.m.: Three episodes of South Park and two episodes of “it’s on the History Channel so it must be educational” Pawn Stars later, you realize you should hit the library.
you need to know. You won’t learn the next seven in such detail. You begin to skim the next chapter, much as you have skimmed through life. 1:47 a.m.: The turkey bacon cheddar has gurgled through your GI tract, and your find yourself in a (Mike the) “situation” at the still crowded library. You pack up and race for the bathroom. 2:20 a.m.: You never overc a.m.e your fear of dropping the Browns off at the Super Bowl with another person in the room, and unfortunately there are no other nerf-dropping nerds. You both sit there in a Mexican standoff, in clenched silence until the other goes. 2:42 a.m.: The Cold War continues, though you suspect Regan never had his pants around his ankles when facing the Russians. 3:06 a.m.: Victory! The shit-shy guy decided to pull up, so you made short work of your business. The library is 80% empty… and eerily quiet.
7:40 p.m.: After waiting for the #26 CATA you’re now in line at Sparty’s to get an occasionally-palatable turkey bacon cheddar.
4:26 a.m.: Tiredness is beginning to set in - this is your usual bedtime. You get the feeling that the ghost of Mary Mayo is lurking behind you. You decide to head downstairs, while telling yourself that she only haunts Mayo Hall.
7:55 p.m.: Your sandwich grilled and table secured, you unwrap your gastric disaster. Realizing that there’s no way you can eat and study simultaneously, you decide to throw on your Beats and watch one more Pawn Stars.
4:28 a.m.: Time for a break! You’ve read the first one and half chapters, and the ex a.m. isn’t for about six hours. Why not watch the trailer for Taken 2: Why the Fuck Didn’t We Just Stay in a.m.erica?
8:36 p.m.: After scarfing down that greasy, bacon-y blumpkin, your stomach now turns at the smell of Sparty’s “food.” You have to move to the second floor.
4:40 a.m.: You can’t shake the fatigue, but an hour’s nap would fix you right up. There’s, like, five other people in library. You set an alarm on your phone and cuddle up under your North Face on a couch.
8:58 p.m.: After scouring the second floor for a table far away from an obnoxious group of study buddies (a type of relationship you never manage to establish due to your classmates’ lack of ability to get to know someone who is constantly absent), you find a quiet table, throw on some Mumford and Sons, and begin studying. 12:02 a.m.- the day of ex a.m.: With ten hours left before the ex a.m., you’ve gotten through one chapter of the eight
5:45 a.m.: You hit what you believe to be the snooze button. 10:14 a.m.: Fuck. 11:10 a.m.: You vow to never skip class again or deviate from a regular sleeping pattern. But first, you need to take a nap to make up for the sleep you lost last night. Your next class is pretty much a blow-off anyway.
9. Butcher the Alma Mater: Even though MSU Shadows is sung once at every game, most of us mouth the unfamiliar words quietly while waiting for the lyrics of the fight song we’re better acquainted with. Alumnae who were here in the 80’s tend to belt Shadows like a Journey cover band, and without much better accuracy. 8. Visit Your Dorm Room: “Hey kid, I used to live here in the 70’s, would you mind if my wife and I came in for a sec? They updated this building nice. My roommate and I used to film ourselves screwing in here on “lucky” nights. We tried for the entire cheer team. Anyways, the angle from the inside of the closet made it hard to get a good shot. Much better now.” 7. Barf: It’s comforting to know that if geriatrics aren’t ashamed of chucking their Conrad’s all over this town, we don’t have to be ashamed either. Barf away, wise alumni! 6. Freely Attempt To Buy Drugs: If an older person approaches you this weekend and asks you about a snowstorm, ‘ludes, or some jazzy-grass they’re probably not a cop for once, but rather an out-of-touch alum looking to get high. 5. Say “If I Were Twenty Years Younger”: We get it, alumni; you want recognition for the miles of dick or warehouses of box you were able to pull when you went to State. However, this line inevitably is really creepy when a fifty-year-old opens with it whilst talking to your freshman sister. 4. Go To the Hospital: The last time any alumni did a keg stand was six years and forty pounds ago, so it looks like this attempt to show you can still party will be ending in hilarity and a trip to Sparrow rather than the “glory” you anticipated. On top of that, you forgot your Geritol. 3. Pass Out At 8:30: Your money may never sleep, alumni, but we can guarantee that if you try to go as fast and as furiously as you did when you were in school you’ll inevitable crash, as you’re unable to keep up with your old, Paul Walker-esqe, pace. 2. Drop a “Hard-N” or Two: It might just be a generational issue, or maybe parents and alumni are just that upset with Obama right now. But for the sake of not making everyone uncomfortable they should really try to cut back on the overall number of these uttered. I’m willing to make a three-fifths compromise on this one, alumni. 1. High Five: Bros are a pretty recent phenomenon. In fact, if you look past the fat and Dad-ness of visiting alumni, you can see a hint of uber-masculinity and “no gay” in them too. Without the word “bro” to describe each other, a high five is how alumni channel their own inner Mac Miller.
ziev and justin wrote this
From the Streets
[PartyPics]Who’s your MSU Idol? Got a question you want us to ask? FTS@theblacksheeponline.com
"Dr. McCarthy. I think we all know why."- Jaclyn D., Grad Student
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beyond beyond coal Cody Manthei wrote this
You’re sitting in class counting the seconds until you can leave. But right at the end of the lecture, the professor concedes the floor to some overly enthusiastic classmate who’s just so goddamn cheery that you might need a shot of insulin. Said student gets up to yap about a cause for a group they’re in. You all know the Beyond Coal group, the people with their self-righteous plea to discontinue the use of coal on campus. Total drag, right? All you want to do is get the truck out of there, and this knobjob is trying to lay a guilt trip on thicker than a thick Jewish mother. Don’t fret, noble reader, we’re here to set the coal record straight and tell you that that’s all a bunch of bullshit. Without further delay, let us explain from our Ivory soapbox/tower why you should, in fact, be Behind Coal! First, it’s way better than gas. Think about it. With gas there’s all these CO2 omissions that are ravaging our ozone and making acid rain (which is different than just dropping acid while being in the rain). However, coal doesn’t do that; it’s amazing! The billowing clouds that our smoke stacks produce actually help stop the sun’s rays from touching the surface of the planet. Not to mention that coal smoke actually has an active ingredient that helps roses grow! See, you wouldn’t have known that fun fact if those big-money, fat-cat, Beyond Coal lobbyists had their way. Next, if we stopped using coal, what would we give our kids for Christmas when they didn’t deserve to have the My Little Pony and a warm meal they asked for? You know, the little shitheads who throw rocks at trucks, tie tin cans to cats’ tails, and learn how to use computers better than us. How in the world would we ever punish them if we couldn’t put coal in their stockings? Thanks to the unwavering righteousness of coal, there’s at least one day out of the year when these punks get their comeuppance while Dad lounges in his easy chair, giggling behind his traditional Christmas morning whiskey at the swift justice the rascals have been dealt through coal. Another thing we all need to be thanking coal for is, of course, diamonds. By “all” we actually mean “those poor kids in Africa who would be out of a job mining those precious blood diamonds if not for coal.” Way to go, coal - providing useful work for people in
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Point being, coal has gotten a bad rap here and it’s really unfair. It’s a vital source of energy, jobs, and sex that deserves a lot more credit than it’s getting. I have a dream that one day we can look out into our cities’ skylines and see smoke stack after smoke stack lining the horizon. In the future, I want to be able to look myself in the eye, because I knew that we stood up for what is right. We stood up for something that needed people to stand up for it. We stood up for coal.
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TUES, 10/16
Ladies Night w/ DJ KING $2.50 You Call It's $2.50 Miller Lt, Coors Lt, Rolling Rock Bottles $3.50 Long Islands $2.50 Soco Lime & Kamikaze Shots
$2.50 Call Liquor $3 All Pints DJ Juan Trevino
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WED, 10/17
$2 Well Drinks $2.50 Bud & Bud Light Bottles $3 Bud Lt Platinum $3 White Gummy Bear Shots DJ BIG MIKE
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The Bar Grid
page 10
theblacksheeponline.com
Foot-In-Mouth Disease Strikes Romney phil keller wrote this
If you follow the news, which for the average student means smoking weed and watching The Daily Show, you know that Willard Mittford Romney VIII is in trouble. A month ago, all the guy had to worry about was people asking to see his tax returns… but then things started going wacky. All of a sudden he's insulting the British before the Olympic opening ceremony and saying that Israel and Palestine will never make peace. Then his advisors thought it was a good idea to give him a bad spray tan before he appeared on Spanish television. Luckily, they cancelled his blackface speech to the NAACP before things really got out of hand. The guy just wanted to fit in. But now the hits just keep on coming. People are up in arms because ‘ol Romners said that the half of the country that won't vote for him are lazy, worthless moochers on video. Actually, Rom-Nasty, half the country just won’t vote, period, because they’re lazy and worthless - and frankly, they’d rather stay home on Election Day watching Maury than wait in line to vote. Regardless, everyone is taking Kitten Mitten’s quip in a bad way, and it's costing him his chance at the Presidency. He needs a game changer—a home run or a Hail Mary—wait, do Mormons even play sports? We all picture them playing Quidditch or Boggle, but not like actual, meaningful sports. Mormon (lack of) athletics aside, the guy needs help. While this verbal-vomit may seem like a personality issue, word from the Romney campaign is that the cause is medical. “I can't believe we didn't see it before,” says Matt Rhoades, Romney's Campaign Manager. “Mr. Romney has a full-blown case of Foot-In-Mouth disease. His foot and jaw have slowly fused together with the unfortunate side-effect of making
everything the presidential hopeful says sound like the ramblings of a greedy, insensitive, out-of-touch dickhead. It's the only explanation that makes any sense to explain the recent problems with our otherwise brilliant campaign.” Skeptical, we wanted proof of this diagnosis. So Rhoades further provided us with hours of campaign footage with the assurance that if we looked closely, the foot could be seen before each preposterous gaffe. After several dozen views of the video where Señor Mitt says he wishes he were Mexican so that he would have a better shot at being elected, we could see it more clearly. Despite not finding evidence of the disease in medical texts or Internet research, Romnafeller Skank’s doctor assured us that the condition was “very real,” and then broke down the biological malfunction that causes a perfectly sane man to say on national television that he enjoys firing people after promising to create jobs if elected. Rom-Com is scheduled to have the foot removed from his face hole within the week, and his staff could not be more relieved. “Now that he will be back in good health, we can get back to discussing the real issues,” said one Romney aide, “Like the unresolved identity of Obama's real parents and why nobody is looking into it.” “Yeah,” says another staffer, “Plus Obama’s middle name is Hussein - this could be a bombshell!” Rhoades remains confident about the outcome of the campaign. “If anything, this will help us. Our skipper’s unfortunate condition means that his statements over the
past few months can be overlooked. Hopefully, people will actually have sympathy for the guy, since they now know that he had just as much control over his mouth as he did over his own company when they outsourced all those jobs without his knowledge or approval.” Rhoades closed with saying, “You know, I think we might just win this thing.”
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bartender of the week kelsey b. rick's Age: 21
Personal theme song: (checks iPod) "Damn it feels good to be a Taylor."
Major: Nursing Relationship Status: Taken. Nickname: B"londie" Favorite shot: Loopy Bomb Best pick up line at last call: “Can I buy you a shot?”
the drinking game
Downtown This game is not for the lightweights or the causal drinkers. Players will be engaging in a mixture of beer pong and flippy cup. Does that sound like a pussy game to you? No. Let’s get down to business. What You’ll Need: Cups, ping pong ball, and beer … lots of beer. Number of Players: Eight players, four per team. Level of Intoxication: Insta-shitfaced. How to Play: - Split up into two teams of four and stand on opposite sides of a table. - Set up a three-two-one formation of cups at the end of the table. - Give each player a cup with beer in it, any amount you all decide on. - The game starts with the first player of each team chugging their drink and flipping the cup. This flippy cup continues down the chain for each team. - When the last person in line has successfully flipped his or her cup, it’s time for the shootout. - Players will shoot across the table into one of the three-two-one cups on the opposite side. - Once a single shot is made, that round ends. The players all shift down one spot, and the game starts over again with flippy cup. The Game Ends When: The team who clears their opponents’ three-twoone cups at the end of the table first wins, and they can celebrate sweet victory … if they can still stand.
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Favorite sex position: Doggie Style Drink of choice: Labatt Blue Light Biggest fear in regards to alcohol: Thinking its okay to drive after drinking. Top or bottom: Top, definitely.
Describe your typical customer: Wasted college student.
Nastiest shot you’ve received: Four horsemen.
Favorite bar sing-a-long: John Wall
Who was the last person you drunk dialed: My best friend from high school.
Recipe for Disaster
Classic Puppy Chow This is a classic recipe that anyone with half a brain can make and enjoy. Except for those with a hatred of chocolate or a peanut butter allergy. But screw them, right? What You’ll Need: An entire jar of peanut butter (none of that organic bullshit), a bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips, a stick of butter, a box of Chex cereal, and powdered sugar. Cook Time: 20 minutes. Fatty Factor: You’ll realize that not even an eating disorder will help your case after your massive consumption of this chocolate, peanut buttery goodness. Let’s Get Baked: - Melt one stick of butter and roughly a half jar of peanut butter. A microwave can be used but a stove top is easier to work with. - Once the peanut butter and butter are melted, add a half of a bag of chocolate chips and slowly melt those as well. - While everything is melting add a few spoonfuls of peanut butter and about six handfuls of chocolate chips. - Taste the mixture as you go along added more peanut butter or chocolate as you feel necessary. - Once you have accomplished the perfect ratio, pour your cereal into a bowl and drizzle the melted mixture over all of the cereal. - Place the coated Chex cereal and powdered sugar into a bag and violently shake it until all the pieces are totally covered. - Let your finished product cool and share (or not). WARNING: Puppy chow has been known to invoke feelings of regret, produce a negative body image, and make romantic comedies an acceptable genre.
Hungry for More? theblacksheeponline.com
: s e n i l e h t e d i s t u o t o b o r s t r o
p s X O F e Cleatus th
g the 2005-2006 appearance durin ed f vis le te st fir s hi ho Cleatus was of made anted to know w S robot. Cleatus w RT e O w t SP Bu X k. FO ea e br th l s, every commercia rview with Cleatu an exclusive inte characters during l d issions. By: Quinn na re io cu em ot se an p om cle ee pr I d Sh an k CG f el ac of fu Bl g oe in bi Th l nd al k, fe ’t This wee ncing and in Cleatus' past isn he can be seen da s out, everything rn Tu w. no NFL season. Now is he he got to where camera, and how
Factory Life Cleatus was born in Detroit, and started work right away building the Ford Escape. However, after the market crashed the factory could no longer afford keeping a technically advanced humanoid. After being found guilty for the tragic death of a coworker, the company had a reason to lay Cleatus off: “The factory was my home. When work ended and everyone went home, I would stay behind. All the lights shut off, except one that was near a radio. Weeks became months and months became years – just that radio and me. The music moved me, and I became more than a cog in the assembly line – I could move in different directions without prior programming. And
I learned to dance not for myself, but for a woman. A human woman… for almost a year I danced with her in my imagination for hours on end. Then one day, with layoffs looming and clouding my typically calculated mind, a 30-gallon jug of injection fluid slipped through my fingers and doused the love of my life, burning her flesh and killing her, slowly. She looked me in the eyes as she melted into a puddle of flesh with eye contact that I couldn’t reciprocate because these LED lights simply can’t express the alloy-rending pain I felt. Three months later the factory shut down, and I was left to wander the streets of Detroit alone.”
Finding a home Detroit was not welcoming to a robotic humanoid with human blood on his hands. Jobs were scarce – especially for a two-ton robot who only knew Ford cars. He was the representation of the American auto industry and its bloated production methods. The police didn’t want him, neither did the military, and the circus doesn’t accept robots. Cleatus was out of options, haunted by death, and addicted to crude oil. “I was jobless and I was an addict. I worked odd jobs here and there – lifting heavy objects, or other… dirtier things… only to buy more fuel. I sold and traded my robotic extensions to sex shops, who displayed them along with my picture. They called me Cleatus the Clit King, and dressed me up in regal clothes to dance and make erotic gestures in their windows. Then, one
day, a high school football coach saw me dancing and asked if I would work his sideline. Of course I took the job, and started dancing with the cheerleaders. We learned from each other, and were surely going to state. I grew extremely close to these girls. They knew what the streets of Detroit were like, and we connected through dance. They were the sisters I never had. They made me feel human, until one day I was reminded again what separates me from them: death. While performing a triple axle twist into the splits, my foot slipped and landed onto Ashley-May’s chest plate, disintegrating it instantly. She died on the spot, and I ran as fast and as far away as I could. But I couldn’t run away from the soulless eyes of yet another human slain at my hand.”
the road to recovery Authorities found Cleatus incoherent from crude oil, and pleasuring himself to pictures of Transformers in children’s magazines. The media had the world believe Cleatus was a murderer pedophile, but Cleatus waited for his day in court. People we screaming for all robots like him to be incinerated. Cleatus prevailed, and his charges were dropped when the court ruled that the two horrific deaths were merely accidents. However, the judge sent him to supervised therapy and required that he be separated from all humans, “He was born in a factory with machines, and that is where he belongs.” If Cleatus couldn’t find a mentor he would be sent to a tropical island to slave away in a sugar factory. Enter William Clay Ford, previous owner of the Continental Division of The Ford Company and current owner of the Detroit Lions. He was also, as it turned out, Cleatus’s father. William took Cleatus under his wing, and placed him in the deep cement depths of Ford Field. He learned of Cleatus's superior dance moves, and realized that he could use Cleatus to pump up the ever-desperate fans of the Detroit Lions. So, William put a camera in Cleatus's cement room, and had him perform pump-up routines to broadcast onto Ford Field’s big screen. “At first, I was just happy to be off the streets. I had a great job, and William treated me with respect. He built me, and gave me
my first job. Sure, there was some animosity there because he was so cold after the factory incident… but he saved me. But slowly it seemed like my pump-up routines couldn’t save the Lions, and William’s visits came less and less. It wasn’t until executives at FOX saw my routine and decided to make me a national football treasure. I was ecstatic. Finally my dance moves could be seen by the world, and I could clear my name. Cleatus the Football Robot wouldn’t just be a sideshow - a simple-minded machine whose existence on Earth is to obey humans. No more building crappy cars, no more crude oil keeping me subservient, and no more using my robotic appendages to fulfill human sexual fantasies. But just like everything else in my life, it quickly turned to rust. FOX used me a lot at first; I was getting almost as much airtime as the human football players themselves. But years passed, and the FOX camera crews started visiting less and less, just like William had done. Now I sit in this dark, damp cement cave for months on end. I have no idea what time it is, or even what year it is… and I’m not sure why they insist on keeping the lights off. It’s like being in the factory all over again, but this time I don’t have a radio to keep me sane. I can’t even dance with the ghost of my one
true love. The darkness only brings my mind back to the smell of injector fluid burning her flesh. When I dance, all I hear is her screams. It is torture. When they come back, they just toss a pilgrim or Santa Claus outfit at me and tell me to do some dance moves. Someone mentioned that I have a Twitter account, but that’s impossible. The only source of electricity is the one keeping me alive – and I’ve tried destroying it several times. I hate dancing, I hate them, and I would cry if I could. But I can’t and I’ll be here forever. Locked in this cement prison, dancing and slamming footballs for humans to only laugh and ignore me.”
the interview
big freedia
Big Freedia Queen Diva is on the forefront of the bounce music revolution – an emerging genre that might just eclipse dubstep in a few years (fingers crossed). Its super-uptempo beat triggers all crowds into a raucous booty-bouncin’ frenzy, and we won’t be surprised to see Big Freedia’s name on the long list of musical pioneers to come out of New Orleans. Since bounce music is kind of hard to explain, you should just go look up “Big Freedia” on YouTube or go to her website (bigfreedia.com) (seriously, you won’t regret it, although it is NSFBOOTY). By: Quinn The Black Sheep: Can you describe bounce music to me? Big Freedia: Sure, my definition of bounce music is an up-tempo, heavy bass, partyin’-time type music. Definitely has to do with shakin’ of the ass too – definitely a party atmosphere, dance-floor music. TBS: You’re a leading force of bounce music, how has it grown since you first got into it? Big Freedia: It has grown tremendously – pickin’ up tons of shows and fans. I’ve traveled half of the world within the last year or so. It’s just expanded really big, and me being on the forefront of it, and being able to bring a lot of people to it, it’s sent me in a whole different direction. TBS: You are in a unique situation – what’s it like going to shows, knowing that a lot of people there haven’t been exposed to this music? Big Freedia: Well, for the most part, it’s been cool. People tend to have seen the videos or heard it before so they kind of have an idea, but they really don’t know because the live shows are so much different. People are really just excited about it, they cultivate to it, and get into it – they start jammin’ with me. You know, you have no choice but to dance. TBS: Have you ever had a crowd that isn’t getting the vibes? Big Freedia: I wouldn’t say they didn’t get the vibe – I would just say they were more of a “lookable” crowd, like they would just stand and watch, then after each song they’ll start going crazy and cheering – then go back to standing at attention as me and my crew go crazy. But it’s rare that happens, where people just stand there. TBS: What type of venues do you prefer? Big Freedia: I do them all, but the ones that are really small and get really intense, and you have that connection with the crowd – it gets really sweaty and hot. Those shows, where people are packed in, it’ll be a better show, the vibes, the tightness of the room – those are always so intense. TBS: Are shows different in New Orleans than other places? Big Freedia: Most definitely, I’d say they’re different. Each place is a little different, you know, kind of the same response in the fans love it and everyone is partying. But the fans in New Orleans know all my music and are used to me, so they holler and sing all the lyrics. TBS: Your videos are awesome, are you making any on this tour? Big Freedia: Yeah I actually have a few videos about to drop. Two that should come out in the beginning of October – working on “Step into the Ring” we’re just waiting on the editing to get done – then it will be out as soon as possible. Also a new one with RuPaul called “Peanut Butter.” TBS: What’s a perfect day in the life of Big Freedia? Big Freedia: When I’m feeling in good health, my mom’s in good health, my family’s safe and secure. You know, just being blessed to wake up another day is a blessing for me. TBS: I’m sure Katrina changed that outlook. Big Freedia: Definitely, going through Katrina and sleeping under bridges and convention centers, being displaced from your family – definitely changed my life for sure. TBS: What’s something you can’t go without when you travel? Big Freedia: Oh yeah, I can’t go without my razors so I can shave my face – my personal hygiene things of course. I’d be lost without my laptop. All those things to keep everything goin’ in the movement and the work I need to do. Always try to bring some merch for the fans… TBS: Speaking of merch, where can people go to pick up your music and everything? Big Freedia: I always bring some posters and booty shorts – two things I always have with me.
the big three
entertainment-y things we’re all excited about.
sinister in theaters october 12 Ethan Hawke plays a novelist who discovers a box of creepy-ass home movies in the creepy-ass attic of his family's new creepy-ass home. The films contain footage of the family who used to live there, but have been murdered, and each are connected by one thing - an image of (you guessed it!) a creepy-ass dude. You could say our asses are pretty creeped out.
argo in theaters october 12 During the height of the Iranian Revolution Tony Mendez (played by white-boy Ben Affleck) concocts a practical plan of creating a fake Hollywood production to fool the terrorists into a releasing a group of U.S. diplomats. If you think this sounds nuts, you're right. But it's also based on actual events, which is nuts.
Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations Monday, October 15 at 9pm on Travel channel Anthony Bourdain may be one of your standard go-to's on a slow TV night, as he's better than watching Adam Richman stuff burgers down his throat. This week Bourdain heads to Rio, where he drinks Brazil's national cocktail the caipirinha and eats filet mignon stew. Sounds pretty dope if you ask us.
Passing The Bar
Maybe not today, and probably not tomorrow, but there will be a point in your life when you drink alcohol that doesn’t end in “Light” or “O’clock.” Test your knowledge to see how many of these blank liquor labels you know. Send your answers to labels@theblacksheeponline.com and if you get them all, you’ll win a prize!
the classtime
drinks and what they’re made of Across
3) Wine, fruit, club soda 5) White tequila, Jagermeister, lime juice 6) Vodka, coffee liqueur, cream 9) Vodka, tomato juice, spices 12) Bailey’s, sambuca 13) Gold tequila, watermelon schnapps, Red Bull 16) White rum, sugar, lime juice, sparkling water, mint 17) Cherry vodka, Red Bull, simple syrup 18) Peach schnapps, orange juice 19) Whiskey, lemon juice, simple syrup 21) Cherry brandy, orange juice 22) Bailey’s, lime juice 24) Scotch, sweet vermouth, bitters 25) Peach schnapps, vodka, cranberry juice, orange juice 26) Tequila, limeade concentrate, triple sec, ice
juice 4) Whiskey, beer 7) Jagermeister, peach schnapps, cranberry juice 8) Vodka, gin, tequila, rum, triple sec, lemon juice, cola 10) Jim Beam, Jack Daniel’s, Jose Cuervo 11) Gin, dry vermouth, olive juice, olives 14) Whiskey, sugar, bitters 15) Vodka, orange juice 20) Vodka, lemon juice, sugar 23) Champagne, orange juice
Down
1) Pale ale, Guinness stout 2) Rum, cream of coconut, pineapple
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