Oh shit! This is really shitty music man. How long have I been out here? It’s only 1:34? Man, she’s been singing with that piano for the longest damn time. This music sucks! She’s hot though, so it’s ok. Wait, no, I think I’m starting to lose my buzz. She’s not as attractive now. I’m not as attractive now. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Run back to the house, ok, jungle juice…no. Bud light…no. Ah, here it its, Smirnoff [gulp] ahhhhh no chasers. Damn it, I’ll use the water cup from bear pong this morning. Wait, not sanitary. Oh, but the alcohol will kill off any bacteria in my system, so it’s cool.

Alright, back to the lakefill [music: and I hear all this music, and it breaks my heart, and it breaks my heart, and it breaks my hear hear hear hear hear hear hearaaaartttt]. SHIT! Why are they still playing this bullshit. It’s killing my buzz. SO BORING! I’d rather go see Sex and the City 2. Wait no I wouldn’t. What time is it now? 1:48? Damn it! When the fuck does Drake get here? WHAT??? No Drake? …Nelly? Not until 9:00pm? What the fuck am I supposed to do until then? Do you realize how much I’m going to have to drink to keep from pulling her off the stage and yelling at those Mayfest kids? Survey my ass. I didn’t fill out any God damn survey!

Oh, well, I guess it’s not that bad, free pizza is going to be giv-…what? They’re out of pizza? Already? Shit! [music: I hear in my mind, all of these voices] Is she seriously still singing? If she doesn’t stop soon, I may go into a rage coma! Okay, keep your cool. It will all be ok once I get some pancakes. Huh? Pancakes were served this morning? SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!

We All Need to Do Our Part to Save the Ocean

By Dr. Floyd M.F. Jenkins

British Petroleum, more commonly known as BP, caused a terrible accident this month when their oil rig malfunctioned and began leaking.  This is a new breed of oil spill — while earlier incidents (such as the Exxon-Valdez disaster) had a finite quantity of pollutant that was confined to the contents of a tanker, here the oil supply is basically limitless.  This leak, which has been named “Deepwater Horizon,” is very difficult to control and gushes millions of gallons of oil every day. 

Sea life in the Gulf of Mexico is helpless to fight off the deadly oil; as a result, the biodiversity in affected areas is decreasing at an alarming rate.  Every organism is precious; as humans, we have no right to let them die because of our foolish actions.  We must find a way to halt the damage as soon as possible. 

Though pointing fingers is generally unproductive, BP has committed one of the most unforgivable and careless mistakes of the 21^st century, and an example should be made. Congress has taken little to no action to indict this company and force them to take responsibility for their failings; this shows the current problem with our world. We can avoid such tragedy in the future only by showing the world that carelessness is not to be tolerated.

I implore you all to think of the ecosystems, even the ones underwater hundreds of miles away.  If we don’t watch out for the animals living in and nearby the sea, who’s to say that we could protect animals on land?  After a certain point, there will not be enough clean earth for any significant amount of wildlife to subsist on — all because of human folly.

Not If You Don’t Give Two Shits About The Environment
By Earl Stevies

There’s nothin I hate more than city-slickers tellin me bout what I need to be doin. My old lady and I shop at Walmart and we’re God damn proud to use plastic plates and silverware for every meal. There specially good cause when I throw them plates at this here TV whenever I get angsty over a NASCAR race, it don’t break the TV.

This here environment thingy needs to mind its own business. I don’t give a rats batootie whether or not there’s oil in the ocean. Think about all the money them fishies and manatees goin be makin now that they got all that oil. Hell, I’ll take an oil leak any day in my trailer, make me a rich man. I’d buy one uh them, uh, fancy VCR’s so my cousin can come over and entertain his kids. Those damn fish might finally smarten up, stop getting duped by them earth worms. Those things are good though, can’t blame em for that.

Shit, I don’t even know where the Gulf of Mexico is or any of that nonsense. If you ask me, it seems like Mexico’s problem, I don’t see what Amurica got to do with it.

Really want to know whats I thinkin? I think that Hussein Obama sabotaged the oil rig so we have to switch to alternative energy like wind and all that other gay shit.

I ain’t gotta help clean nothin cause I don’t give a shit about no environment. What’s it ever done for me?

For you, I made it seventy degrees. Now you can wear that new skirt you’ve been waiting to show off since, oh, late August. I mean, seriously, that low cut is really cute and everyone is looking at you, babe.

What’s that you say an hour later? It’s raining and fifty? My bad. I can’t help but make it rain on them slightly flirtatious but ultimately shy NU girls. If it makes you feel better, I’ll throw in a little hail tonight.

Doesn’t it feel great to sit out by the rocks enjoying the sun while various couples make out around you because their love is too vast to be withheld inside and in private? I just wanted you to know how it feels so I can take added pleasure when I make it forty and raining next week. This is sadder than Kyle Rowley transferring from Northwestern.

You’re in my world now. If you don’t like it, you can move to Pandora. Oh, it doesn’t actually exist? That must make you clinically depressed.

There is nothing I enjoy more than giving you a taste of the good before I make it snow in April. Well, except for notifying the annoying census workers they will be jobless by the end of the year. That is something you can count on.

Throughout history, people have begun essays with grand generalizations
By Professor John McSnoot

Throughout history, people have begun essays with grand generalizations. It’s one of the most common mistakes I see in student papers. These generalizations are often the same as the title of the essay, which should always be its own thought.

There are three main mistakes I see in my students’ writing: Making a laundry list of reasons, sentence construction badness, and repetitive, redundant sentences of redundancy. Then, they do not provide adequate explanations for their reasoning. They just beat around the bush and never get to the point and just repeat the same thing over and over and use way too many long, winding run-on sentences that could have easily been separated into several smaller sentences for increased clarity.

Other students do include examples, but they try to force a fit to include a direct quote. It reminds me of the politician Richard Nixon, who once famously stated, “I am not a crook!” Don’t do this in your paper, because it isn’t correct. (And you also shouldn’t use contractions.)

In conclusion, as I stated in my intro, throughout history, people have ended essays with grand generalizations. It’s one of the most common mistakes I see in student papers.  They also use their conclusion to restate their introduction instead of finishing with a separate thought.

Most young writers end their essays too abruptly.

EVANSTON – Northwestern University prides itself on its nationally acclaimed theatre program. Widely recognized by students across the country, Northwestern theatre prepares young artists to cope with rejection, the typical outcome of real-life performance auditions. One hopeful freshman, Jeff Sachs, is actually convinced that I was aware of and had time to attend The Taming of the Shrew, a student-organized show he worked on.

Sachs, a dazed theatre major, clearly faltered in logic with that thought, failing to recognize that my attendance at his show would have been statistically impossible. This is a common mistake, it would appear.

First, consider the amount of time a college student works. Multiply that value by eight to determine the time a Northwestern student spends working. By this logic, the average NU student works 169 hours per week, or one hour more hour than the total amount of hours in one week. Next, multiply the number of performances in one quarter by two hours, the average length of a production. Given the amount of performances nightly, this time value overflows most standard calculators.

Some have sacrificed their grades in an attempt to attend all the performances. In addition, it has caused cast members from different shows to engage in intense competition. They lure audience members by whatever means necessary, even resorting to violent threats. One anonymous audience member voiced his concern: “I literally saw ten shows in one night because I have a lot of friends who are theatre majors. I thought I was being a good guy, supporting the performers and everything, but apparently I wasn’t. When I woke up the next morning, someone had spray painted ‘the cast of Eclipsed knows you weren’t there’ and ‘the theatre community will make you pay, jackass’ on my door. I really am scared for my life now.”

Jeff Sachs, you silly young artist, are you serious? If there were a million hours in a week, chances are good that I still would have been unable to attend The Taming of the Shrew. Sachs is simply “dream[ing] the impossible dream” like Don Quixote did in Man of La Mancha — for the few of you that had the chance to see the NU show.

LITTLE ROCK, AR – A month after his wife landed a position as a volunteer at the local Salvation Army, Bud Bixby worries that she is not spending enough time in the kitchen.

“I don’t know,” said Bixby, staring blankly around his empty kitchen. “There used to be so much food. Now, there’s just leftovers all the time. It’s almost as if Louanne doesn’t care anymore.”

Bixby has been married to his wife, Louanne, for 16 years, and this is the first year she has ever participated in an activity outside of the house.

“I just don’t know where her priorities lie anymore,” said Bixby. “This isn’t the woman I married.”

Louanne Bixby said she is happy working as a volunteer.

“It’s not like I don’t cook anymore. I made a damn meatloaf last week,” she said, folding a stained pair of pants and placing them gently on a rack. “Bud’s just gonna have to learn how to cook for himself.”

The boxes and boxes of Easy Mac and Pop Tarts strewn around the Bixbys’ front lawn are now causing concern around the neighborhood. Despite weekly trash pick-ups, the amount of discarded packaging from ready-made foods is unrelenting.

“God, the appetite of that man is incredible!” said Johnna Applebee, a concerned neighbor. “No wonder Louanne had to get away! Cooking for that behemoth was probably a full-time job!”

“I just get hungry,” said Bud Bixby, sitting on his couch, half-way through a box of pizza delivered 15 minutes earlier. “I thought Louanne understood that. Now, when I look into the kitchen, I don’t see love. I just see, well, mostly ants and stuff right now.”

When asked what he had done to remedy the lack of prepared food at his house, Bixby became confused.

“What? I don’t… OK, heres the thing: my wife is the food-cooker in the Bixby household. That’s the way it’s always been. I know my wife loves me when I see a steaming pot of chili waiting for me when I get back from the bar. But now that she’s doin’ God-knows-what down there at that army place, I just can’t be sure anymore if she feels the same way.”

“I hated being in that kitchen,” said Louanne Bixby. “Every time I made that bastard chili, I’d spit in it. I had so much anger built up. But now that I can leave that god-forsaken house, I finally feel like I’m doing something with my life.”

“I just don’t know what Louanne could possibly be doing with her life if she’s not in that kitchen,” said Bud Bixby. “I guess there are just some things I’ll never understand.”

Currently, Bixby is surviving off of Ramen Noodles and Asian take-out, and is still waiting for Louanne to “come to her senses” and “get back where she belongs.”

Dear NU Flipside,

Swine flu is definitely a zombie virus. How can I survive the zombie apocalypse?

Sincerely,
James Walshington

Well James, we here at The Northwestern Flipside have put many hours into the study of zombies and can say with great certainty that this so called “swine flu” is really a government ploy to cover up the reality that the dead are being reanimated as zombies. In the course of our studies, we have also devised a comprehensive survival procedure for such an event. First, it is important that that you properly protect yourself against the undead. We suggest a shotgun and perhaps a machete. Flamethrowers work nicely as well. Next, you will need a place to ride out the initial infection. Malls have been scientifically proved to be the best strongholds against zombies. We suggest that you camp out on the roof of the Old Orchard Mall and wait for the zombies to starve to death, as our intensive research has shown is inevitable. Once the danger has passed, you may proceed to repopulate the world as you see fit.

-Want to Ask The Flipside a question? Email your question to agresik@northwesternflipside.com

This week’s book is an enthralling epic narrative by Charles Darwin entitled On the Origin of Species, in which the protagonist travels on a fantastical voyage to a magical island off the coast of South America. While on the surface this story may seem to be one of a slightly eccentric man cavorting with animals, as would the character of a children’s book, it is my belief that much literary significance can be found in many of the characterizations. The character of Finch, for instance, represents the many facets of human nature through his ability to change the size of his beak. Furthermore, the character of Mr. Galapagos Tortoise is clearly a reference to the age-old fable of the tortoise and the hare.

Yet, while these characters are both fanciful and full of philosophical insight, Mr. Darwin fails in many ways to create a mature work of fiction. The use of the author’s own name for the main character shows a true lack of creativity, and creates confusion as to the fictitious nature of the work. The general lack of action is also a serious drawback, as the main character spends most of his time staring at rather ordinary plants and animals. In the end, it is clear that Mr. Darwin’s work is better suited to dim-witted, easily amused children than to connoisseurs of fine literature.

Next week: a review of the Harriet Beecher Stowe’s comedic masterpiece, Uncle Tom’s Cabin.

So I keep hearing about this Northwestern Lakefill and how it’s so glorious. Yeah, it has a nice view of Chicago. And sure, it provides people a nice place to run for a total of three months during the school year.

But Lake-FILL? I think not. This supposed engineering marvel “filled in the lake” to “add more land to the Northwestern campus.” Ludicrous! The lake is barely full at all. In fact, there’s a whole shit-ton of water left in the lake. What’s the deal? I thought Schapiro ran Northwestern, not Mayor Daley.

I mean come on; does it look full to you? On top of all of this, what does it say about the McCormick School if they cannot complete the simple task of filling the lake? This is an undone job, and people need to know. It’s a lake, not an ocean. This is just another example of Northwestern’s inability to properly relegate her funds. I mean really, do we need another frickin’ blue-light telephone? I say it’s about time to fill up the lake for real!

Dear The Northwestern Flipside,

Mitch Skillman

Dear Mitch,

I’m glad you asked, as there are a lot of really cool places where really cool people hang out and do really cool stuff. For instance, there is a popular vampire-themed dance club in the 28th sub-basement of Tech. Don’t worry, it has nothing to do with Twilight, many engineers simply find that long hours in Tech tend to instill a fear of the sun they haven’t seen in years and a taste for the blood of humanities majors.

For those looking for an older, more experienced crowd, Pick-Staiger includes a swingers club which is run in conjunction with the Northshore Retirement Hotel. Also not to be underestimated is the Cliff Diving Club, which meets on the lakefill at 2:00 on Wednesday mornings. While it is true that nothing even slightly resembling a cliff can be seen within miles of the lakefill, it’s certainly entertaining to watch them try.

Finally, for the truly adventurous, the nightly orgies on the roof of Slivka are not to be missed, especially in January. And you wondered why they never go outside.