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F*** it Fridays

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“Because you know you checked out on Wednesday...”

Friday, February 28th, 2011 ISSUE 9









The Origin of the Super Bowl A


fter months of wins, losses, Randy Moss trades, Brett Favre nonsense and straight up brawls, the National Football League season will soon come to a close. As we all know, the season ends with the annual salute to pageantry, excess, and twelve-hour pregame shows known as the Super Bowl. America can’t get enough of Terry Bradshaw’s shiny dome and Howie Long’s movie theater-sized forehead when it comes to the big game. This year’s production meeting was most likely filled with pitch ideas ranging from “How annoying is that Wiz Khalifa song?” to “How terrible of a person is Ben Roethlisberger?” or “How fantastic is A.J. Hawk’s hair?” The answers to those questions are a lot, a lot and a lot. Figure out for yourself which one is which. However, many Americans do not know the origins of the Big Game, or how it came to be so big. Fortunately, there is a very simple explanation to both of those queries. In a foregone time that is now simply known as “The 60’s,” there were a few different football leagues.The NFL and the AFL (American Football League). There was also a little known league of full lipped, promiscuous ladies known simply as the DSL. They were undoubtedly the hottest of all of the leagues. With that said, the AFL and the NFL were the biggest and baddest of the bunch. They were like the Bloods and the Crips, or even the more dance-y and fun, Jets and the Sharks. If you get that reference, you’re a weirdo and if you don’t get it, you’re dumb. You decide, America

And in 1967, both leagues squared off for a rumble; the likes of which had never been seen before. Literally, the champions of both leagues fought each other with knives and bats and those things that are like a nunchuck on one side and a spikey ball that you swing around on the other side. It was intense. It is a widely accepted fact that seeing the rumble is what caused legendary folk singer Woody Guthrie to die later that year. He was thrown into an eventually fatal shock after seeing Packers wideout Boyd Dowler hurl a trident at the vulnerable chest of Kansas City Chief’s quarterback, Len Dawson. This horrific scene was later re-enacted in the classic Will Ferrell film Stranger Than Fiction. Fittingly, none of that shit was fiction. It was all too real. In the interest of not making the nation vomit because of the gross display of violence, Packers quarterback Bart Starr suggested that the two teams do what they did to get there: play football. That is how the Super Bowl was born. Starr was awarded the MVP and the Packers were deemed the winner by an arbitrary “sure, why not?” score of 35-10. The “football only” format grew and flourished. People began to say things like “Wow, those are the two best teams. I enjoy watching them play each other at the end of the season to see who is the best.” The television industry capitalized. And now, the Super Bowl is broadcasted in over 1,700 countries and two million different languages. Those facts are completely made up. I’ll take the Packers in this game though, because that Wiz Khalifa song totally sucks.




TOP 10

Things We Miss from Childhood 10) SIPPY CUPS: When we were toddler people, these things prevented massive flash floods of juice across the kitchen floor or Mom’s pristine white carpet. Now that we’re hotter, older babies with boobs, can you imagine how much beer we could save if we invested in college-sized sippie cups? Million-dollar idea, guys. 9) SATURDAY MORNING CARTOONS: I was always the kid who slept in until 11:30 a.m., even as a seven-year-old, so I didn’t necessarily watch the “Saturday morning” part of the cartoons.Nonetheless, I definitely got my fill of Wile E. Coyote being a total dumbass and staying completely immortal, no matter what he blew himself up with that week. I’d like to give a special thanks to those Saturday morning cartoons, because even though I may have not have been there for you, you were always there for me.


I have to admit, not completely without shame, that I troll CollegeACB. I can honestly say I have never posted on the site, nor have I really been tempted to. Following the site has a similar appeal to watching Jersey Shore, with the added perk of being something of a source for local current events as well. That same rush, that disgusted swell in the recesses of my stomach when someone’s rabid guidette throws a punch, or when Snookie gets her rotund self arrested and rolled into the backseat of a patrol car, accompanied by my inability to turn the channel, is my body’s way of commiserating with these people whose lives are now center stage in the calamitous shitshow of life. I come home from a 1-3 classes day (God bless the humanities majors), pounce into my lofted bed, open up a bottled smoothie and check Facebook, email, and ACB. And it’s all rainbows and butterflies, because I am not them. I am not going to rehab, I was not cited for alcohol possession on the fratbus to semi, I do not give the easiest head, and I am not the hottest Asian on campus. Especially now with both sorority and fraternity rushes coming to a close, the site is all aglow with its frat bashing. Scroll, happy viewer, through list upon list of “word of God” rankings and ratings replete with masturbatory self-promotion and name calling, interspersed between oodles of vigilante spamming which is just downright annoying. But what does it say that the gangs of our school have high-tailed it from the streets and brought it to this virtual realm of anonymous mouth-foaming? It’s kindergarten all over again. I’d be embarrassed.

Time’s most influential man of the year in 2009, moot, the creator of the infamous website, once said that people deserve a place to be wrong. And there was light, and it was good, and it was CollegeACB. The site is, without question, a place to be very, very wrong. It’s the ego petting zoo for our school’s sub-six-foot self-loathing finest, the birthing and slaughter grounds of reputation for the kinds of people who take this shit seriously. From fuck lists to passed-out infants in port-a-potties, we already have our fair share of bad press, but none of it holds a candle to what we say about ourselves. And that we say it anonymously. We are truly pathetic. And as for the people like me who read the site like open-mouthed bystanders to a car wreck, shame on us for giving these losers an audience. We should probably stick to watching other people’s dignity go down in flames on TV. Fist-pump!

8) ROLLERBLADING: When I see a dude rollerblading now, I immediately assume he is a homosexual, but back in the day (which was NOT a Wednesday, screw you Dane Cook), rollerblading (and scraping the fuck out of my knees), was the thing to do around the block. If you weren’t doing it, you weren’t cool.No ifs, ands, or buts about it. 7) SPICE GIRLS & BACKSTREET BOYS: So, even though now they’re pooping out babies left and right, when they were in their prime, they created some of the most perfect music our 8-year-old ears could handle. Not to mention predicting which Backstreet Boy would date which Spice Girl was a great pastime when all the homework you had to worry about was some Hooked on Phonics bullshit.

6) SUMMER CAMP: Speaking for the white people, there is never going to be an experience as comparable as the tan we were blessed with from the 2 hour swim-time at summer camp.Well, that, and eating outside, playing on jungle gyms or watching Hook on rainy days. Just try not to think of this article this summer when you’re behind a desk at your internship hating your life. 5) TOYS ‘R’ US: The place where boys become men and girls become princesses. Just walking into Toys ‘R’ Us, knowing you’re going to walk out with a new toy was boner-inducing in itself, girl or boy. Don’t even get me started on Kids ‘R’ Us though, that place was hell for a 6-year-old who hated getting clothes more than they hated Ivan Ooze from the Power Rangers.

4)MCDONALD’S BALL PIT: “Look mom! I’m going under!” What exactly did we think we were doing when cold, colorful, plastic balls surrounded us? Was itbecause it felt cool and weird simultaneously? Would I be sent away to a crazy home if I tweeted “just chillin’ in the ball pit at McDonalds”? Probably, but I’m doing it anyway. 3) SNICK: You know it was a good Saturday night when you could catch everything on Snick. From All That, to Kenan and Kel, ending with Are You Afraid of The Dark to scare the elementary school shit out of you. A Jersey Shore re-run on Saturday night will never compare to this childhood magic. 2) DISNEY MOVIES: You know every word to “The Circle of Life” and wanted your own personal Genie (with Robin Williams’ voice, too). Simply put, if you didn’t watch Disney movies as a child, you had no childhood. I’m sorry, it’s just science. Hopefully someone will soon release you out of the box in the basement.

1) GUSHERS-OR ANY GUMMY SNACKS, REALLY: Fruit by the Foot, fruit roll ups, gushers, my god. Whatever they were, they were good in any flavor. These sweet treats were worth punching out your best friend for one small packet, like a baby crack addict. Number one on this list because 100% worth the risk of childhood obesity and cavities 100% of the time.



email us at f***



One of our writers on staff is a distant cousin of Gary Busy, and every once in a while he will catch up with our U of I staff, sending along politically charged chain emails, asking for money, or just pictures of his balls submerged in various liquids. We know he is getting a little senile, but recently he sent along an email regarding the Super Bowl. Sure, we’re used to his ranting emails, and we rarely know where anything Gary says comes from, or why he feels it’s necessary to prove just how much milk his swollen testicles can displace, but his confusion of the Super Bowl seemed to ratchet his crazy to a whole new level. In any case, we felt it was necessary to pass along the email… From: Uncle Busey ( To: Subject: Buyer Beware: Super Bowl XLV is a Battle for Your Mind

a the ever-constant glowing abyss that will melt your conscious thought and having you laugh at beer commercials and addiction. Addiction will leave you living in the fast, fast, fast, fast, fast lane, do you understand? I have foreseen knowledge that the players are merely holograms on the field while powerful men sitting above the stadium control their very moves. The game, like Mother Gaia’s fatecircle, is pre-determined and we the audience are merely pawns in their neo-capitalist scheme. If you question me you must know you are wrong. Look at the end of the game. They already have the hats made for the winners. You tell me how they do that. TELL ME! The men sitting in the boxes above the arena act God, show mercy to none, and control the barbarians fighting for their lives. I cannot begin to tell you how serious this game is. The men in the boxes will continue their mind control, and soon control your mind. They will have you buying Super Bowl paraphernalia, drinking Budweiser and eating Papa John’s. For weeks following you will be watching the same analysis, the same highlights, the same backwards knowledge that will keep you from stepping outside the lines of false knowledge and into the Brotherhod of De Facto Lifefinders . And if you don’t watch the game you can consider yourself disemboweled and hung from the bridges of your respective hometowns. I know because they once controlled my mind. How did I break free you ask? I hid my socks. You will know why in the near future. I have seen the light. LIGHT, Living In Gods Heavenly Thoughts. First I must warn you, When you get lost in your imaginatory vagueness your foresight will become a nimble vagrant. But I know he once had a plan for us all, but abandoned us in Grandma’s basement with windup toys that don’t work and dirty t-shirts that taste like blood. Do you understand me, butthorn? Do not be scared. Fear is the dark room where the Devil develops his negatives. Listen to me, are you listening to me? Look into the seriousness of my retinas. Do you see them contracting and expanding like the unbound portal of serenity twisting through the black nothingness that is our universe? What makes up 99 percent of our bodies? Hydrogen and oxygen and nitrogen. What makes up 99 percent of the universe? Hydrogen and oxygen and nitrogen. We are everything and we are nothing, we don’t run through the universe, the universe runs through us. If you watch the game this weekend limit how many senses you are exposing to the brainwash. For the first quarter watch the game on mute, the second only listen on the radio, the third sit in a darkened room and smell, and during the fourth quarter only receive information about the game through a chain of three people. This will break down the communication and limit the amount of exposure you have to the media of mass destruction. Students, this is your warning.


Dear Students, I rarely watch television. It is like a direct porthole for Beelzebub to reach his withering claw into your brains to squeeze the thoughtblood out. Recently I was watching the television and saw an advertisement for a game involving men of barbaric size, battling for control of mother earth. The Prophecy is true—I’ve risen from my slumber in the year 2068, my nightmarish haunting has come to fruition like water evaporating from a cup of blood in a stained-glass microwave. Students, I must warn you against the outcome of this match. First, I do not understand who decided on these new-age zealots to battle for control of the planet. Fervent followers of both clans disparage The Lightness of the Lord by bringing the heaviness of weight to their morbidly obese bodies. In fact, as a society we will fail because we create enemies out of necessity to hate. Students, it’s good for everyone to understand that they are to love their enemies, simply because your enemies show you things about yourself you need to change. So in actuality enemies are friends in reverse. QUIT. INTERRUPTING. Hey how ya doin? Where was I? No, not where am I, I know where I am, I’m in the middle of my Tuesday wonton soup bath, I mean where was I in my dictation? How did you get in here? Listen, great opportunities like this only happen for the first time once. You, the young people of this country, need to understand the opportunity you have this week. The more time you take to come clean, the less time it takes dirt to come for you. Do you understand me, men of the future!? These barbarians want nothing to do with your goals, your mindsets, your aspirations. Who are these Packers? These Steelers? Students, Uncle Busey’s time on this earth wanes in the face of lady harelequin hope, and soon I will ascended to the plateau of the Lord’s 4th Light, but I must warn you of the downfalls of false leadership. Do you know what leadership stands for? Leading Everyone, Always Doing Everything Right So Humanity Is Proper. Do you think these barbarians will treat you with respect when they have power? No. These people are dark companions who have used the television to squeeze your bowels and have you blowing up balloons in the back room of a child’s birthday party. The television is

“Drinking your own blood is the paradigm of recycling”- Gary Busey


Here are a few words for you to learn, memorize, and use on a daily basis. Try it out and see what happens!

Yours, Uncle Busey


DERECTION: Definition: An unpleasant thought that’s an immediate boner killer. Sentence: “I got a derection last night when Angela told me about her abortion during sex.”






Born in a log cabin which he built himself while only two days old, Abroham Drinkin’ began his life as one of history’s, and America’s, greatest bros. The cabin itself was furnished with only an empty beer can chair, a dirt floor, and the pelt of a bear which Drinkin’ wrestled and killed with his bare hands. The “logs” for the log cabin were actually empty bottles of Bacardi.

His parents, Mr. and Mrs. Drinkin’, were immediately amazed and intimidated by the bro they had spawned and quickly bought him an Xbox, a bottle of Jager, a 300-pack of sheepskin condoms from Ye Olde Costo and a sandwich. After learning how to read only the important letters in the alphabet (B-E-E-R) and learning basic math and physics from banging female bros, Drinkin’ astonished everyone by using a piece of chalk to write the formula for a delicious homebrew and schematics for what is now the modern beer pong table (invented by Drinkin’ himself) on a shovel.He carried that shovel around for a while and used it to dig the graves of his enemies.“Someday I’ll be President,” he said, while playing Asshole with his friends.

Eventually, Drinkin’ grew to be taller than most other bros his age.Due to his height, he always had to wear jeans from Brocawear or Abrocrombie, as they were the only ones that would fit him.One day on a booze-run to Springfield, Illinois, his bro-ness was sensed and the residents of the city immediately elected him Senator. They also gave him a law degree.“I didn’t do shit to get this!” he cried. This earned him the name: Honest Abe. Around this time there was a lot of talk about ending slavery, which put many bros under indentured servitude to the Confed-bro-rates, who were not bros at all, but actually geeks and dweebs with a cotton fetish. They made the Southern bros pick their cotton and Drinkin’, seeing this injustice, took off his New Era flat-bill hat and declared: “All bros are created equal, when I get the chance I’m gonna hit those dweebs hard.”He then punched Stephen A. Douglas in the face and went on a booze-run to Washington where he was elected President, just like he predicted only a week before.

The Civil War soon began between the bros and the dweebs, with the bros wearing trendy navy blue tank tops and neon shades and the dweebs wearing the grey uniforms their moms dressed them in. With the Emancipation Broclamation, Drinkin’ freed all the bros of the South and they quickly got crunk with the Northern bros and kicked the shit out of the dweebs. The country was saved and bros everywhere did a kegstand in victory.

Unfortunately, tragedy befell Abroham and his slampiece Mary at a Kanye West concert in the Ford’s Theatre in Washington.In the middle of the show, a dweeb named John Wilkes Gooch walked up behind Drinkin’ and snapped his headphones in two. This gave Drinkin’ a heart attack and he immediately died. Thus the life of Abroham Drinkin’, an American hero was ended.

For all his great accomplishments he has been added to the growing compendium of Great Bros in History.


Lincoln wasn’t really a bro, both of his siblings died in infancy.

Like what you see and think your friends will like it to? Forward the Newsletter along to share the procrastination love! Have them e-mail f*** if they want to join the mail list!

MOVIE TRIVIA: ALL ABOUT KINGS! Patrick Fabian played the lead role in “The Last Exorcism.” He got his start, though, playing an iconic professor in which 90’s spin off show?

(answers on Pg. 5) On the movie poster for “Poltergeist”, what is the phrase the little girl touching the tv screen say?

Jennifer Carpenter, who played Emily Rose in “The Exorcism of Emily Rose” is now one of the lead actresses on which popular Showtime show?

Between the original film release in 1973 and the Director’s Cut re-release in 2000, how much money has “The Exorcist” made?



The Rite

Colin O’Donoghue, Anthony NAME(S): Hopkins and Ciarán Hinds



Apparently this is a true story, and the priests involved are alive and exorcising today. I should tell you that if you see this movie and consider yourself non-religious, it will probably make you question that decision. Which leads me to believe that maybe it is not a true story, or not completely true, and that maybe the Vatican paid a bunch of money to claim it as a true story thus inviting more people back to religion...

DIRECTOR: Mikael Håfström MOVIE TRIVIA ANSWERS: 1. Saved By The Bell: The College Years 2. “They’re Here” 3. Dexter 4. Roughly $513 million

Click HERE for the rest of the review!

BOOZE REVIEW NAME: Southern Comfort TITLE: Lime


O B+

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Click HERE for more alcohol reviews




NAME: Now That’s What I Call Music TITLE: Volume 37! SUGGESTIONS:


Tweens dig compilation albums for a variety of psychologically fucked up reasons. They have attention deficit disorder, not to state the obvious, so an album that has different types of songs all together is key to tween enjoyment. Tweens are also brats and don’t want to listen to songs they don’t know and only listen to the ones that they hear on the radio. Tweens are also sluts-in-a-cage, waiting to be freed, so of course they like...

SOUNDS LIKE: The music unhappy housewives with bratty tweens listen to.. DOWNLOAD: Uhh, you’ve already downloaded them all... LISTEN TO IT WHEN: You’re blacked out...

Click HERE for the rest of the review!

BEER REVIEW NAME: Buffalo Bill’s Brewery

Blueberry Oatmeal TITLE: Stout


PRICE: $1.89/Bottle

THE BEGINNING: In spite of my stated favoritism toward dark beers, I’m known to have a soft spot for fruitinfused brew. Normally these take the form of either flavored wheat beer, or else the oddball concoctions from the likes of Short’s and O’Fallon’s. Then I stumbled across this little number chilling in the cooler- oatmeal stout with blueberry. Now THIS is something I can get behind- besides, I like oatmeal with fruit in it...

Click HERE for more beer reviews

F It Friday Issue9  

Just another issues of F It Friday

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