can you pls send me zelda's personal phone number? she is one hot mama and I'd like to get to know her more intimately over a night of binge drinking. pls nd thnk u.
509-926-2824. She wears some freaky underwear, be warned.
The six-time NBA World Champion, five-time league MVP and Hanes underwear spokesman Michael Jordan shocked sports fans everywhere earlier this week when he announced he would be auctioning off the rights to change his last name in a tweet heard ‘round the world. Within those 140 characters Jordan outlined the auction rules: he would be changing his last name; the highest bidder got to choose what he changes it to; the auction would end in 24 hours. He also elucidated the reasoning behind the decision. “I got the idea after seeing Chad Johnson’s transition to Chad Ochocinco and Ron Artest’s change to Metta World Peace. I think there is a lot of money to be made with this. And after a couple of bad investments, namely ‘Instagram Crackers: The First Social Media Snack,’ I really need this money.”
Bids immediately began to fly into eBay, forcing the company to devote several servers to the high-interest item. By the time the digital dust settled, the world was left shocked once again as, with a final bid of $40 million, Bed, Bath & Beyond had won the right to change Michael Jordan’s name.
A representative for Bed, Bath & Beyond (the company, not the man) stated that they were very pleased with the outcome of the auction and hope that the decision can help them to break into “a more urban demographic.”
The change was made official on Friday and Bed, Bath & Beyond (the man, not the company) has already requested for the records to be rewritten to reflect the “new” him and has threatened legal action against media members using his former moniker. More than just re-engraving the minds of sportcasters and some old trophies, the name change has repercussions across pop culture, including a redubbing of Space Jam (“Michael B-b-b-b-b-b-b-bed, bath, and beyond!” – Porky Pig) and the rebranding of his popular line of shoes (“Now lined with 300-count Egyptian cotton”).
Although not always a trendsetter (see his attempt to singlehandedly revive the Hitler-stache), Bed, Bath & Beyond’s moneymaking ploy could become the start of a new era in marketing, further closing the divide between sports and advertisement. “The possibilities stemming from this event are endless,” remarked Chaz Reiner, an advertising major. “If this had happened a year ago, we could have been seeing Michael ‘Subway’ Phelps and Ryan ‘Denny’s GrandSlam Breakfast’ Lochte up on the podiums.”
For now, however, the sports world only has one major change to adjust to, as the era of MJ comes to a close, not by the hand of LeBron James but, rather, by the man himself, MB3.
During the school year, this sentence is one that is murmured more times on campus than “Oh my God, look at Kevin Pangos playing Frisbee with his shirt off.” However, do not let this sentiment lead you astray.
Summer sucks in college, and we all know it.
Whether we are stuck in the desolate wasteland of Spokane, Washington, or back home with no one but our annoying high school friends to hang out with, everyone just dreams of being reunited at Gonzaga again in late August.
Sure, the beginning is fun, when you're figuring out who's in town and telling a plethora of stories (usually beginning with “Dude, I was super hammered one night...”). The first week or two are bliss, but then it all goes down the toilet faster than that spider you just smashed with your shower sandal.
Dullness and boredom left this writer wondering, “What can I do to keep myself occupied during the summer?” Then an absolute GEM came out of Florida.
That’s right. I did Bath Salts.
My first mistake was not doing my research. I simply heard on the news that a man had cannibalized a fellow human being’s face after getting "high" on bath salts before I switched the television off and ran straight to Bed Bath and Beyond.
Turned out, I was not alone. The store was packed with hundreds of teenagers who were obviously all watching the same news coverage I was.
As I browsed the selection of various flavors, brands and forms, I was thinking to myself, “What will be the most pleasant to use?” After some experimentation, I found my answer: none. This was the most horrible experience of my life. No joy.
I settled on raspberry cheesecake-scented salts, but then came my next dilemma. How the f*** do I ingest this?!
Now I am no druggie, but I know how they are used. I tried everything. Diced it up nice and fine and snorted it, but that shit hurt more than being stabbed in the eyes while having an elephant step on your balls.
I tried smoking it out of a pipe but it wouldn’t light. It just turned black. So, my natural outdoorsman came out and I ran to the backyard, gathered some twigs and used it as kindling to help ignite the fire, like I did in my Boy Scout days. Still wouldn’t take.
I saw something in the movies once where someone melted drugs down on a spoon. Tried it. All it did was melt the plastic.
Were you ever scared of monsters as a child? Well, now you can drink one. Did you ever dream of partying with a rockstar? Good news! Now you can for only three dollars. Did you ever want to fly? Fun fact: now you can get wings from a Red Bull. All this may sound Ludacris, but even he endorses the new sleep repressing movement that is sweeping the world: energy drinks.
It is a wonder, though, that this movement has gained so much momentum in so little time. That’s why this reporter did some investigating.
Over the past few weeks, I have uncovered some terrifying revelations behind the use of energy-spiking drinks in popular culture:
My first revelation came from the recent cultural obsession with vampires, particularly the Twilight phenomenon. I wondered to myself, “Who in their right mind would endorse the creation of such a silly premise, making such an idea popular and acceptable in mainstream society?” It didn’t take long to discover that the perpetrators were not in their right minds. The United States’ government subsidized the creation of the movies, and why? The reason is all too clear: Vampires don’t sleep, and they don’t want us to, either.
This idea is a propaganda technique used to perpetuate the notion that not sleeping is not only cool, but beneficial as well. Think of how much can be done if one doesn’t need to sleep! But what is it, exactly, that the government wants people to do with these extra hours in the day?
This puzzled me too until I read an article outlining the trend that China will surpass the American economy by 2016. However, China's is not the only economy that is growing faster than ours. The American government wants to keep up with other growing economies from around the world, so the less sleep its people get, the better. In order to boost the economy, Americans needed to work harder. And what better way to make a worker work more? Faux energy.
The bailout packages weren’t just for banks. Energy drink-producing companies got a nice chunk of change for their work in the “American Comeback.”
Unfortunately, other countries struck back, and far more brutally. They manufacture weapons more powerful than any Monster or Rockstar; they make video games. True, American companies contribute to this market, but it is only a knee-jerk reaction with the mindset of, “Well, if you can’t beat ‘em... make better video games for Amurica!" The American-made games promote repetitive and menial, yet goal-oriented, tasks for the players. It is often against some foreign enemy, whether that be the invading Covenant or Nazi Zombies.
Conclusion: There is a government conspiracy to morph it's sleepless citizens into mindlessly patriotic worker machines.
This work, though, seems to be contained within pixelated parameters. From COD to WoW to Skyrim to Super Mario, these games contain any potentially active workers, thus maintaining the current status quo of the American work ethic.
While there is light at the end of the tunnel, resist the urge for energy! It’s a ruse. Lethargic work habits are the American way, and even fake energy, however powerful, cannot stop that.
Editor’s Note: Delilah Balderdash has been put on a leave of absence due to her paranoia issues resulting from excessive use of energy drinks.
Situated right on the edge of campus, Wolffy’s Hamburgers has one of the most renowned reputations of any eatery within the Gonzaga community. Not only are the burgers hearty and the milkshakes frothy, this vintage hotspot also transports customers to the Happy Days of the 1950s. This novelty diner is a time machine.
Literally.
When I first walked through the door, I didn’t notice anything amiss or out of place. They just seemed to execute the theme exceedingly well. Elvis crooned from the jukebox and decently dressed youngsters chatted pleasantly. The poodle skirts didn’t really strike me as odd, even though they were worn by employees and customers alike.
I hopped on one of the stools and ordered a cheeseburger and fries from a kindly frycook sporting a “Vote for Eisenhower” pin on his lapel. The first thing that struck me as odd was a news bulletin coming from a nearby radio. The newscaster was vehemently warning listeners about something called the Red Scare, which was apparently an epidemic sweeping America.
I didn’t know much about this so-called “epidemic,” so I pulled out my iPhone to check my CNN app for further details. Immediately, the whole restaurant turned on me and regarded me suspiciously. The proprietor asked who I was working for, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. I simply asked if I could use the restaurant’s wi-fi signal, which apparently was the wrong thing to say. He called me a “commie” and accused my iPhone of being Russian spy technology. Suddenly, everyone in the restaurant ducked to the ground and covered their heads while screaming bloody murder. A man in a suit who called himself Senator McCarthy burst through the door and swiftly secured a black bag over my head.
Luckily, right before I was about to be interrogated with electroshock therapy, a red Chevy drove through the wall of the diner and knocked the Senator unconscious, allowing me to struggle free. I guess the driver of the Chevy had been drinking and driving while on a cross-country road trip. He introduced himself as Jack Kerouac and asked if I was interested in some Benzedrine. Not really knowing what that was, I politely declined and exited the diner through the new crater in the wall, returning to the 2012 reality I know and love.
Eating at Wolffy’s was an experience of some sort. I would rate this restaurant an OK+ out of 6.
“I’d say this trend is bad… but it’s much worse than bad. It is breaking bad and moving more towards horrifying.”
These are the words of troubled Dr. Arnold Yarmoff, who works at the Netflix Rehabilitation Clinic in Los Angeles, California.
“Every day in my office, I see modern families suffering from arrested development as a result of this highly addictive webservice. And people always ask me, you know, they say ‘Hey, Arnold, why do you think this is happening so frequently?’ and I honestly can’t say for sure right now. But I know that if we can’t make this stop, then pretty soon these people are gonna be pushing daisies.”
Dr. Yarmoff is talking about the biggest epidemic to hit the civilized world since the black plague, called by some “the ultimate first-world-problem” – Netflix Addiction. It holds in its unforgiving grip three out of five Americans, and to break them free is an enormous task, but good people like Dr. Yarmoff have taken it upon themselves to try.
“How could you not try, after seeing what some of these people go through?” he asks, rhetorically. “Folks walk into my office, skin paled by lack of sunlight, teeth missing as a result of malnutrition and infrequent oral hygienic practice… they look like the damn walking dead. To some it’s disgusting, but it just makes me want to put on my scrubs and party down. By which I of course mean I want to help them overcome their problem.”
It’s this genuine concern for the welfare of fellow humans that makes Yarmoff so good at treating these patients. “It’s not their fault they’re like this, you know. Society pushes them. Big entertainment companies push them. And it’s truly despicable, how these mad men rope you in … It’s a business strategy ripped straight from the heroin dealer’s handbook. They give you a free one-month trial, and you’re gone. But Lost? I don’t believe so.”
The Netflix Rehabilitation Clinic was opened just last year for the specific purpose of helping those suffering from this new and quickly spreading disease, and it has been so successful in its treatment that expansion into the UK is currently being planned.
“We want to have an American and British office” says Yarmoff. “We just want to help as many people as possible.”
The cause of this affliction is still shrouded in mystery, and thus is very difficult to diagnose. Doctors like Arnold Yarmoff have begun using a standardized test which places patients on the “Fonzie Scale,” a numerical score between one and ten which represents the level of addiction the patient is experiencing. The test is about one hundred questions long, but for your personal benefit, we’ve included a portion of that test below.
1. Do you have pet(s)? If so, does it/do they know any tricks?
a. No pets, no tricks.
b. One pet, potty trained.
c. Not sure/Can’t remember
d. Several cats, all trained to attack when I say “Rise, my children”
e. Illusions, Michael. A trick is something a whore does for money.
2. Which of the following would you consider the highest form of art?
a. Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5
b. The Harry Potter novels
c. The Harry Potter films
d. “The One With Ross’s Wedding”
e. We know what art is! It’s paintings of horses!
Getting your result is easy, though these two questions might not be enough to get a complete reading. With the letters a-e corresponding to numerical values 1-5, simply add up and find the average of the answers you gave, and multiply it by two. The result is your placement on the Fonzie Scale. If you scored a seven or higher, then you should seek help. Cancel your Netflix account and learn to read.
In the face of such a fierce societal menace, dismissed by many as incurable, Yarmoff remains resolute and determined to his cause – and he claims to be moving closer and closer to a cure. “I’ll be the next Jonas Salk, mark my words,” he says, “people will finally be saying ‘Dr. Arnold Yarmoff’ instead of ‘Dr. Who?’”
The following is an interview with a Spokane native. He is known only as Riverfront Randy. During the summer months, he sleeps in various residence buildings on campus and makes full use of the toilets in College Hall. The interview was conducted by our very own Milton Arbogast…
Milton: Thanks for taking the time to talk to me, Riverfront Randy. How are you doing?
RR: Call me Randy! I’m just fine. My butt crack is a little tender, though. I just used the toilet paper in the Desmet first floor bathroom. I’ve wiped with softer acorns.
Milton: I’m sorry to hear that. How was your spring?
RR: It was great. I found a crop of rats near that construction site in the park. They’re a great source of protein and fiber. They taste a little bit like salty bologna with the texture of soft tree bark…not bad.
Milton: Sounds like the chicken fried steak in the COG. So, what are your summer plans?
RR: I’m gonna be doing the Dorm Hop Challenge!
Milton: What exactly does that entail?
RR: You haven’t done the Dorm Hop Challenge?
Milton: No, please enlighten me…
RR: Well, I guess it was started by Ermina Ernie a couple of years ago. Me, him and a few other pals have a list of things we gotta do in as many dorms as possible by the end of the summer. The one who does the most things in the most dorms wins!
Milton: What things do you have to do?
RR: Ahh, well, we gotta do one shaving in each bathroom…
Milton: Oh, that’s pretty normal. I thought you might say something…
RR: …of our privates.
Milton: Oh.
RR: We gotta take a poop in each bathroom. We gotta pee in as many showers as we can. We gotta…
Milton: Randy…is there any part of the challenge that does not take place in a bathroom?
RR: Oh yeah, we try and lick all the doorknobs.
Riverfront Randy was a pretty well-spoken individual.
Evolution has struck again. New evidence put forth by a study in “Dude, No Way” magazine suggests that the monthly visit from Aunt Flo, once believed to be gender-selective, has morphed. Now, Uncle Dick is coming to town. That’s right: the manstrual cycle is a reality.
Perhaps it is not a reality in the reproductive sense, but the evidence details how women are not the only ones who often experience odd food cravings, mood swings, irritation, and essential whininess. Let’s look at the facts with some documented examples from the study:
Jon-Jon Pennywelt, 19, asked his roommate the other day for the leftover jar of pickles so he could dunk his Snickers bar in the brine.
Xavier Spelunker, 23, began to cry after watching Return of the King with his girlfriend, but when she asked why, he said he “didn’t want to talk about it.”
Alex Chen Huang Xi-Chun, 18, tried to throw his keyboard through a screened window while playing League of Legends because his neighbor across the hall asked him for some Cheetos and “broke his concentration.” Coincidentally, Alex also broke his nose when the keyboard bounced back off the screen.
Chip Chavez-Ediajuanaldo, 21, when his suitemates asked him to bathe, responded with a piercing, “But, guuuuyyysss. I’m really stressed out right now. Can’t you just use some more Febreeze? Or do I have to do everything around here?”
The answer is now terribly clear.
Ever wonder why men give women so much flack for their response to this unfortunate visitor? The first stage of grief is denial, and those unfortunate males have not yet come to terms with the gravity of the situation. Once men begin to grieve over their lost emotional control, the healing can begin. But prepare for stage 2: Anger.
*Support group available the first Wednesday of every month in the basement of DeSmet Residence Hall. Tea and tissues provided.
Wait no longer, cause we just dropped our third issue!
Asleep at His Post Issue #3: NO REGRETZ EDITION is now available all over campus! Check out our twitter feed @AsleepAtHisPost for live updates of where you can get your copy!
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