The Black Sheep FR
EE GE ... L T I IKE TB C EF AM OR PU ET SS HE QU Y H IRR IBE EL RN ME AT AT, E!
• A COLLEGE NEWSPAPER THAT’S ACTUALLY ABOUT COLLEGE •
Volume 7, Issue 3 9/13/12 - 9/20/12
theblacksheeponline.com @MSUBlackSheep
THE LIFE OF A P.A.C.E. OFFICER GaRRison Rasmussen wrote this
digital audio from a p.a.c.e. scanner. recorded on September 7th, 2012. 7:03 p.m.: cindy, come in. looks like it’s gonna be a rough shift; i’ve already been booed by multiple groups of kids on porches and my self-esteem has taken a serious hit. also, i can’t stop farting for some reason. 7:05 p.m.: i see a house party. this community is about one puke-filled solo cup from absolute anarchy. i’m taking this address down for later. 7:29 p.m.: a black Bonneville is parked three inches past a “do not park” sign. textbook ticket, just like they draw it up in the p.a.c.e academy. you know, cindy, it’s not a real academy. it’s just a weekend class at community college, but you know how i like to reflect back on my days in the “academy.” 7:50 p.m.: cindy. hey, cindy. yeah, i can’t wait to write about that last ticket in the next letter i write to my grandmother whose been dead for five months. she’d be so impressed, i imagine. 8:12 p.m.: come in, cindy. hey, do you ever think about this job? like, really think about it. lately i’ve just been wondering how much of a difference we actually make as parking enforcers. what? yeah, i’ll pick you up some froyo when i get off—yup, birthday cake and butter flavor, just like you like. 8:15 p.m.: cindy, i just had some little freaks spit on my truck then run inside. yeah, it was pretty dangerous, i mean, i’m sweating pretty hard right now! 9:01 p.m.: what country do these rowdy little punks think this is? they can't spit on trucks, my truck, without consequences? when did the good ol’ u.s. of a. become mexico? 9:03 p.m.: this proves it, cindy. the elpd need some help and i’m going to clean up the streets. this is the night everything changes. wow, suddenly my life has purpose. no need for me to flood the suicide hotline with calls again tonight! 9:10 p.m.: wrote up two clearly drunk ruffians for jaywalking. i’ve got no breathalyzer on hand, cindy, so i did the rational thing that any supercop would do and tied them both to a bus bench. their jaywalking days have been effectively ended. 9:57 p.m.: i’ve had enough. the very presence of a college student on the street is unsafe. we need to take all of them
THE BIOGRAPHY OF A PUSHUP KING
THE MAN, THE MYTH, THE LEGEND... YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT.
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down. no, of course this is all protocol. 10:15 p.m.: ran two kids off the road. cindy, i don’t know if it’s all the car chases or crime stopping, but are you as turned on as i am right now? 10:43 p.m.: i’ve never felt more alive. finally, this town is getting the enforcement it needs. i ripped off my uniform’s sleeves and tied them over my face. Justice has no face. 11:16 p.m.: Kid was a pissing on a tree. cindy, you should have been there, i knocked him unconscious then threw him in the back of the truck. god, i hope all the charges stick. it’ll be good to see this pasty moon-face behind bars. are you kidding, why would i stop? no, i’ll probably make sergeant for my work tonight.
what’s inside
TOMMY REES' APPLICATION TO NOTRE DAME'S FOOTBALL TEAM HOW THE SAUCED-UP SIGNAL CALLER GOT INTO GOD'S HOUSE.
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11:24 p.m.: come in, cindy. i’m heading back to hQ now. calm down, i remembered to pick up your froyo. i hope you like your froyo like i like my justice, cindy: cold, hard, and vigilant—wait, did you tell the entire force to meet me outside the station? (Radio drops and we hear the truck door open and many deep voices ordering Barry to step away from the vehicle) 11:25 p.m.: cindy, come in, cindy, this whole city has turned on me now; the cops are arresting me and yelling about charges of kidnapping and false imprisonment! cindy, my sweet cindy, tell the world my story. sell the movie rights of tonight to paramount and make sure they get leonardo dicaprio to play me. remember, cindy, i can live forever as long as you remember me.
A LETTER TO MSU FROM THE WELLS HALL PREACHER HE'LL LET YOU KNOW IF YOU'RE GOING TO HELL! (NOTE: YOU'RE GOING TO HELL.)
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