The Black Sheep
fr ee Ra ... lik nd e a y D ki ick ss er fro ma m n.
Vol. 9, Issue 4
The College Newspaper That's Actually About College
9/12/13 - 9/19/13
A Message from
Bruce the Horse Cop, Horse BY: Tom White Sup gang, it’s me, Bruce the Horse Cop, Horse. I know it seems kind of unnecessary to have seven-foot-tall war-beasts trotting at a glacial pace — much slower than a car, bike, hell, even a reasonably paced pedestrian — around the streets on game day. And I know my presence causes some internal conflict, changing something drunk, rowdy people are afraid of (cops) into something drunk, rowdy people love (mobile petting zoos). But I’m just trying to do my job, guys. So, I wanted to set the record straight and apologize for all the times I’ve had to break up your guys’ parties, and for the many occasions I’ve accidently taken poopies in the road. PSYCHE, CHUMPS! News flash: ol’ Brucey gets off on all that alpha colt shit. Yes, the pun was intended. Just because I’m a horse doesn’t mean I can’t have a rocking sense of humor. The only thing I love more than cleaning up the streets one dorky, Sperry’swearing moron at a time is taking a big, steaming, Brady Hoke-sized toilet clogger in the street right in front of your house. Cop Horse life is all about bringing the pain. “But Bruce the Horse Cop, Horse! Popular culture has led me to believe horses are loveable and trustworthy!” I can hear you complaining with your tiny little human mouth. Wrong! I’m colder than the nacho “meat” the bars put out on their buffet. Oh while we’re on the topic of pop culture here, I dare one of you to make another Seabiscuit comment to me. I straight dare you. You’ll find out the hard way where the expression, “That talking horse just kicked my ribs in and then frenched my girlfriend in front of me while I was writhing on the ground,” came from. I might have a human riding me, but I’m still a bad boy playing by his own rules. I’m no sell out like that poser Seabiscuit. Officer [name withheld due to threat of horse attack] and I are partners. Sure, I wish he didn’t insist on wearing leather gloves all the time, and the aviator
sunglasses at night are a bit intense, but other than that I wouldn’t change a thing. Well, maybe when we hand out M.I.P.’s to freshmen trading cigarettes for booze with homeless people behind El Azteco, it’d be nice not having to pretend it’s just his nightstick I’m feeling perking up and growing on my back. But that’s neither here nor there. I wasn’t always in the security business. Before I came here, I was breaking hearts, boning the señoritas
to pay for the margaritas in a “horse show” down in Meh-He-Co. Every day was an endless stream of women, nachos, and enough ketamine to get Guy Fieri high, life was good. But I’m no one trick pony and it was time for a change. So when Lou Anna K pitched me the offer to come to East Lansing and bust some law-breaking undergrad ass, I couldn’t say neiigh. I went from womanizing playboy extraordinaire to crime fighting badass.
I’m like Batman only I’ll bite you with my gigantic murderous horse teeth… and take the occasional Brady Hoke-sized shits in the street. I’m a four legged storm of justice coming your way, you bi-pedaled bitches. Step foot on my streets with an open, alcoholic beverage and your ass is grass — well that is unless you walk into a house or any non-public area at a mildly brisk pace because again, we kind of just mosey right down the middle of the street. Bruce out, punks.
The Mask of Dantonio
MSU Folklore: The Walk Sign Guy
No Mo’ Free Randy: A Date with Randy Dickerman
The identity of the creepy voice behind the walk sign is exposed!
He’s Back! Randy D. takes your girl on a date.
Our beloved Football coach and his trusty steed Beaumont defend all things good.
Keep Up With Us! @BlackSheep_MSU • theblacksheeponline.com
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Herversion A secret sexual fetish coyly conveyed by one woman to her group of female friends.
“When Maggie told her sorority sisters, ‘sometimes a small one feels better,’ Maggie’s herversion came to light, she actually liked small wieners.”
Week Guess The Mascot Tweet Us @BlackSheep_MSU First right answer wins a prize!
DON’T MESS AROUND WITH
#BADTIMESMAN Tweet us your creepiest, most hilarious, most perverted, most raunchy (or all of the above) pick-up lines to @BlackSheep_MSU #BadTimesMan
If yours proves to be the weirdest, you’ll win a prize and be featured in next week’s issue!
Last Week’s Answer: Syracuse’s Otto the Orange
The Black Sheep
Celebrity Before & After Just like Jeopardy!, our before and after asks you to pair two unlike things, sharing only a word. Because we’re as vapid as the rest of you, a celebrity name will always be involved. Tweet your answer @BlackSheep_MSU and use #goodtimes for a chance to win a prize!
An intergalactic smuggler actor sadly forced to trade in his pride and joy for a domestic 85-horsepower downgrade.
Last Week’s Answer: Buddy Guy Fieri
read more online TheBlackSheepOnline.com
The MaSk of Dantonio By: Zach Wyrzykowski The night is calm as students make their way around campus. Music abounds as fun and spirits flow freely; for on nights such as this, the campus comes alive. But sadly, all is not fun and games in East Lansing. Each hoof beat splits the air. Tails swish back and forth, and shit drops freely from the unfortunate beasts charged with carrying the harbingers of a ruined night. These are not men; they are the Ingham County Mounted Police. They stalk the night like Nazgul, galloping from party to party, bringing despair and court dates like a plague. None can hope to escape their equine justice. A cheerfully buzzed group of students ambles through Cedar Village, drinking and making merry. In a flash, they are confronted by a brown stallion, struggling under the weight of a bloated and greasy lieutenant. His mouth stretches into a sickening grin as he reaches for his pencil and paper, giddy at the thought of handing out his tenth MIP of the night. “This sucks,” complains one of the students, “you’d never get away with this if Mark Dantonio was here.”
group of partygoers. A high whinny is heard. The officer, now confused, looks back to see none other than Spartan football coach Mark Dantonio astride Beaumont, a magnificent ivory steed. Dantonio raises his jeweled sabre and yells, “My name is Mark Dantonio. You harassed my fans. Prepare to die!” At this, both the officer and his horse relieve their bladders. Before the lieutenant can turn his old mount and flee, Dantonio is upon him like frat boys on a freshman girl. He gives him several sound slaps with his riding crop before the poor fool turns and gallops off into the night, sobbing loudly for backup. Dantonio laughs heartily atop his shining steed. He turns towards the students, asking, “Isn’t the dick supposed to be under the horse?” He then rears Beaumont and gallops off down Bogue, hurdling over squad cars and charging through roadblocks as if on a crusade against horseback douchebaggery.
The officer cackles dryly. “Dantonio? Hah! He’s a 57-year-old man. That old bastard probably needs help getting out of bed in the morning.”
Before long, Dantonio hears the sounds of hoof beats behind him. He turns to see the entire Mounted Police on his tail, batons raised menacingly and tasers at the ready. Our hero grins and pulls his steed off the road, making a mad dash for the river.
Suddenly, out of the darkness, a football spirals forward and knocks the pad from his hand. Enraged and spitting, the officer turns to see who would dare to obstruct his injustice. He peers into the darkness, but sees nothing. After stroking his jowls for several seconds, he decides he’ll have to investigate after taking out his newfound rage on the laughing
His pursuers quicken their pace, and just as it seems they have Dantonio cornered, he leaps with Beaumont, yells, “Chase it!” and clears the Red Cedar. He turns to see the officers frantically halting their mounts. “Where’s the threat?” he taunts, then saunters off towards the forest behind Holmes.
As daylight begins to peek over the horizon, Dantonio leads Beaumont into a well-hidden cave, changes into a business suit and tie, and casually walks towards Jenison Field House to begin morning practice with his team. He is about to unlock the gate to the field when he is stopped by a dozen sweaty, angry-looking police officers on very tired-looking horses. “Mark Dantonio, you are under arrest for obstruction of justice and illegally operating a quadruped on campus grounds,” pants the most senior officer. Dantonio, unfazed, laughs. “Must be another Mark Dantonio. I’m just a 57-year-old man who needs help getting out of bed in the morning, remember?” He winks, then locks the gate behind him as the officers simply watch, mouths agape at his display of sheer bravado.
A Fifth Year Senior in Freshman Classes
MSU Celebrity Sex Tapes By: Zoë Kremke
People affiliated with Michigan State are known around the world for their unusually high level of attractiveness. Some call it Spartan Sex Appeal, others just acknowledge this universal truth in silent appreciation. This is why it has become obvious to The Black Sheep that MSU Celebs should seriously consider making sex tapes. Our beauty shouldn’t be hoarded away; it should be shared with the world. Here are MSU’s top ten personalities who would make wicked awesome videos of their sexual endeavors. 10.) Sparty: With all of those muscles Sparty could easily rock a 1970’s style sex tape. Once he grows a sweet mustache and oils up he’ll be ready to sensually rock a lucky lady to multiple o-faces. 9.) Zeke the Wonder Dog: Despite the fact that Zeke is a dog, he is by far the most legendary dog in the history of the canine race. He has all the bitches fawning over him on a regular basis, and if you don’t think he’s down for doing it doggy style, you’d be wildly incorrect. The weird part might be filming his sesh, but we know a few guys who’d be down to do it. 8.) Mark Dantonio: Would Mark Dantonio’s sex tape be the most badass, world-shaking phenomenon to grace the Internet since Chuck Norris memes? Next question. 7.) Lou Anna K: The sassy, hardball-playing president of Michigan State University is definitely some kind of dominatrix. Okay, maybe not, but that’s just one of infinite possibilities for L.A.K.’s sex tape. Just picture Our Lady Simon all leather clad with a whip... well, maybe don’t picture that.
By: Cody Manthei You slide through the door of your intro-level psychology class and start looking for a seat — preferably a dark corner where you won’t be noticed. While scanning the room you realize you’re surrounded with overly excited and dangerously optimistic youngsters eager to learn. Yet there you stand in homemade jorts, with whiskey in your beard and apathy in your heart, checking your watch before class has even begun. What these freshmen don’t know, and what you’ll try to hide unsuccessfully for the entire semester, is the fact that you’re a 22 year-old fifth year senior just trying to get out. We understand. You were sliding into home plate with your degree in sight but this one class and its four god-awful credits blocked the plate. The university requires that you take a bunch of bullshit “general” education classes because it makes you a “well-rounded student.” In reality, they melt your brain until the only thing you remember from the last class is the one chick with the Skrillex haircut who sat two seats in front of you. Why is her head like that? Is she sexually confused or just desperate to be different? Is this high school? Where am I, both physically and in life? But let’s stop to think about the unique situation you’re in. You’re surrounded by freshmen who know nothing about the way real Spartans handle business. Maybe, just maybe, you can be a messiah. You can come forth and show these naive children the righteous path of Spartacus. You can show them exactly how much homework you have to do to get that 3.0. You’ve been doing it for four years, you’re a pro! “But Mr. Senior, I want a 4.0!” Crush their dreams and let them know that only nerds overachieve and that no one really cares how well you do as long as you graduate. If you’re not an athlete, you’re just a number to the university. And if you are an athlete, you’re just a number they can put on the back of a jersey and make millions of
dollars off of without giving you a single cent. Take them to see the Wells Hall Preacher. Tell them, “Sure, he’s crazy, but after four years you learn to love him. Nothing eases the shame of puking in a bush on the way to class like hearing him tell everyone else they’re going to hell too.” Take them by the president’s house on West Circle Drive. That’s a beautiful place, isn’t it? Throw some eggs at it. Maybe shit in a bag, light it on fire then throw it through a window. Draw penises on the sidewalk, weird looking ones that are all veiny and crooked and shit. They might wonder why you’re defacing the house of the benevolent man who let them into this fine university, but just tell them they’re too young to understand. Take them to their first tailgate at the tennis courts. Help them shotgun their first beer. No, not like that, Devin. Take notes from Kait over there. She’s already done like three and you can’t even stomach one? Come on! They grow up so quick, don’t they? Oh shit, it’s the cops! Don’t look so underage, Kurt! Grow a beard, hurry! Ah, damn. They got Kurt. You could do all of this. You could show them that “Spartans Will” is more than just an idiotic ad campaign. But you won’t. You’ll keep sitting in the dark corner of the classroom in deep daydreams about being someone else, or just hoping that the professor doesn’t do one of those adolescent icebreakers. You’ll remain seated, nursing your hangover and doing everything humanly possible to stay awake. After all, this is your last year (hopefully), and you’re getting by unnoticed. Wait, hold the phone — is that… could it be?! You spot a girl in sweatpants bolt out of her seat with a look of nausea, covering her mouth with her hands, each one marked with bar stamps. Turns out you’re not alone. You just found a pregame partner every Tuesday and Thursday for the rest of the semester. Here’s to you, fifth year senior in a freshmen class.
6.) Willie the Can Man: Willie the Can Man takes being a ladies’ man to uncanny levels. The man gets more play than the average frat boy, or at least more than the average frat boy brags about getting. His sex tape would definitely be the classiest of all the potential MSU famous figures’, and reasonably so. He is a beautiful man with a beautiful soul. 5.) Wells Hall Preacher: In all honesty, we would pay good money to see a sex tape involving any or all of the Wells Hall Preachers. The mere concept of them is shrouded in mystery, but there are realistically only two directions this sex tape could go. Either it’s going to be kinky as hell, where the Preacher wears some kind of demon costume; or it could be oddly run of the mill, 20 minutes of missionary style, which is sort of pure and appreciable. 4.) Tom Izzo: Tom’s passion on the court would surely translate to the Izzo Bedroom Experience. His constantly beet-red face, three-point stance, and screaming demeanor is not exclusive to games, making his video reel high-intensity for the adrenaline lovers out there. 3.) Yoga Pants Queens: Oh, Michigan State’s generic yoga pants-wearing queens, we couldn’t have possibly forgotten you in our list. In this fabulous sex tape, there are many shots of a fabulously fine rear end. The only downside is that once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. 2.) Freaky Math TAs: Let’s face it, we all have that one painfully shy TA who’s cute and tells jokes about long division. This sex tape would be the one everyone wants to see, if only because we’ve all already imagined several scenarios of this happening. 1.) The Black Sheep Staff: Obviously, making the top of the list as the sexiest group of Spartans on campus, The Black Sheep staff’s sex tape would be mind blowing. In one all-night, crazed orgy, there would be so much beauty packed into one film it’d be too hot to handle for the average Spartan viewer. Unfortunately, due to the disgustingly seual nature of this video, it will never happen (a recording of the orgy, anyway). Humanity is not ready.
Around campus Send us your party pics from around campus to firstname.lastname@example.org
on the Streets If you could have a mythical creature as a pet which would you choose and why? r Mara, Senio
“Unicorn because they’re mystical and hot.”
r Haley, Senio
“Duman. A half dog half human. Man’s best-best friend.”
r Mike, Senio
“Sphinx because it’s a lion and it flies.”
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The Log of a
The Black Sheep obtained several hours of recording from a Cedar Village security camera. The events that follow may be disturbing to some.
Cedar Village Hallway Camera
8:45 p.m.: A large group of scantily clad girls stumble down the hallway laughing obtuse, gaping-mouth laughs. They arrive at apartment 206 and knock on the door with delicate, yet drunken assuredness. A kid wearing a foam Spartan helmet opens the door with a grin. Everyone embraces.
By: Michelle Danaj
9:38 p.m.: Apartment 204 opens. A swaying man appears in the doorway and yells something to a friend back inside. They both exit and return a half hour later, dead eyed, with a large Goomba’s pizza. 10:06 p.m.: The group of girls from apartment 206, some wearing even less clothing than earlier, begin their exiting process. The mass of Spartan PINK departs to the north exit and one of the herd trips over a condom and falls face-first into the stairs. Everyone proceeds to laugh boisterously as one of the guys picks her up. Bleeding and disheveled, she stays with the group on their way out. 10:37p.m.: A guy leads a busty girl by the hand down the hall. He fumbles with his key and laughs, despite having lazer-like focus on trying to open the door. The girl then grabs him and starts making out with him against the door of apartment 204. He drops his keys as the two slide to the floor on top of each other. The door of apartment 204 opens and the two drunkards with Goomba’s in hand start cheering the guy on. The pair sit up and snap to. Looking horrified and ashamed the run out of camera view.
11:09 p.m.: A lone girl walks in the north entrance, heels in hand, and stumbles a quarter of a way down the hallway before she stops dead and clutches her stomach. After a few nauseating seconds, she keeps stumbling down the hallway. She gets to apartment 206 and starts knocking on the door incessantly. Knocking… knocking… 11:19 p.m.: The same girl is still outside of apartment 206, but she has quickened the insistence of her knocking, unaware that no one is home. All of a sudden, she stops, retches once, looks around frantically, and ralphs all over the floor. A stream of pure vodka that would rival the destruction that Mount Vesuvius caused Pompeii rains all over the hallway. Unfazed, she turns back towards the door and continues knocking. 11:47 p.m.: Three guys enter the building carrying an MSU Police barrier. They see puke girl sleeping outside 206, place the barrier around her vom, and enter apartment 207. 12:21 a.m.: Puke girl, now asleep in her own vomit, wakes with a start. She looks around in a daze, grabs the doorframe to stand up and slips in the vile remnants of her own stomach. She then crawls down the hallway and out the south exit. 12:56 a.m.: The 206 gang returns to see the mess that poor puke girl made. Swearing, gagging, and arguments on how to cross the puke come to an end when one guy finds his key and steps carefully over the river of puke into his apartment. The rest of the drunken crowd isn’t as careful, and track the vomit into the apartment.
1:42 a.m.: A Domino’s delivery guy enters the north entrance carrying a pizza and a two liter of Mountain Dew. He gets to apartment 207 and knocks. No one answers. He looks around, sees the lake of vomit drying in the hallway, gags and knocks again. This time the inhabitants of the apartment start yelling through the door. “I’m not coming in!” the pizza guy yells. He calls the customers who apparently want him to actually enter the apartment. He keeps repeating that he cannot enter their apartment. 1:58 a.m.: The pizza guy, fed up with these ridiculous customers, takes the pizza out of the carrying case, sets it next to the two liter and walks out muttering, “Only at Michigan fucking State…” 2:33 a.m.: The door of apartment 204 opens and a shirtless man looks down the hallway to see the pizza sitting on the floor opposite his apartment. He yells, “Guys! Sparty sent us drunk food!” This exclamation is greeted with extreme excitement and the MSU fight song. The guy grabs the pizza and returns to his apartment. 3:00 a.m.: Lou Anna K. Simon enters the building toting two half gallons of mystery liquid. She pulls a lever and a secret door opens. She looks both ways, yells “Ahou-AhouAhou” and approximately half of Michigan State’s professors flood into the door carrying gallons of jungle juice. 3:10 a.m.: Tom Izzo enters with two attractive women on each arm. He pulls the secret lever, points a beam of light at the camera, and disappears into the night. Recording over.
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The Bar Grid
January 2010 Happy Hour: Monday – Friday 3-6pm.
$2.00: Domestic Pints $2.50: Well Drinks ½ Off: Potato Skins, Onion Rings, and Hush Puppies.
SPECIAL NIGHT Thur. 9/12 Fri. 9/13
FRIDAY: Free Cover! Wednesday Daily Specials: $2.50 Beers, Pints, Wells Monday 9pm-Close $2.50 - Pints $2.50 Washington Apples, $2.50 – Call Drinks Tuesday 9pm-Close Johnny Vegas, Soco Limes, 6 $2.00 – Well Drinks Kamikazes $3.00 – Premium Drafts $4.00 - Irish Car Bombs Wednesday 9pm-Close $2.00 – Domestic Drafts $2.50 – Well Drinks $3.00 – Bombs Thursday 9pm-Close $2.50 – Pints $2.50 – Call Drinks Friday 9pm-Close $3.50 – All Pints $3.00 – Well Drinks Saturday 9pm-Close $3.50 – All Pints $3.00 – Well Drinks Sunday All Day $3.00 –Bloody Mary & Mimosas $3.00 – Pints $8.00 – Burger, Fries & Pint Every Day $3.00 – Kamikaze Shots $4.00 – Pinnacle Bombs
Irish Happy Hour: 4-7pm Everyday! Friday Saturday (except: Wed.) $3 Pints of Guinness, Harp, 31 1 2 Smithwicks and Bass, DJ Beats (Front Bar) DJ Beats (Front Bar) Global Village DJ Minze (Back Bar) DJ Minze (Back Bar) $5 Car Bombs, $3 Jameson, Bushmills, John Powers, $3 Wells, Half-off Potato 7 8 9 Skins, Irish Nachos and Chicken Thumbs DJ Beats (Front Bar) DJ Beats (Front Bar) The Whirly Birds Thursday
DJ Minze (Back Bar)
Book Harper’s & RUSH Special Events 20 B-Days, Graduation, and Greek Functions!
Free Cover! $2.50 Beers, Pints, Wells $2.50 Washington Apples, Johnny Vegas, Soco Limes, Kamikazes 9pm – Close Every Day
DJ Minze (Back Bar)
28 DJ Beats (Front Bar) DJ Minze (Back Bar)
½ Off – Potato Skins Hush Puppies & Onion Rings
DJ Beats (Front Bar) DJ Minze (Back Bar)
29 DJ Beats (Front Bar) DJ Minze (Back Bar)
Thirsty Girl Thursday! $2.25 Wells and Beers Live DJ
Thursday: No Cover! Burger Bash 3-8PM 1/2 off All Wells, Calls, Pints, Bottles, Pitchers, Shots and Bombs No Cover! Burger Bash 3-8PM 1/2 off All Wells, Calls, Pints, Bottles, Pitchers, Shots and Bombs $2.50 ALL Call Drinks, $2.50 Miller Lite, Coors Lite and Rolling Rock Bottles, $2.50 Call Drinks, $3.50 Long Islands, $2.50 SoCo Lime and Kamikaze shots
$3.50 Pints of Coors Lt, Miller Lite, Bud Light, Labatt Blue Light, $3.50 Well Liquor, DJ Dublin Square Irish Pub 327 Abbott Rd Donnie D East Lansing MI 48823
$2 Shots, $2.25 Cocktails, $0.25 Boneless 1oz Wings, $4 Medium & $7 Large Cheese Pizza, $3 Burgers No Cover - Live Entertainment!, Live Music + DJs Starting at 6PM!
The Ice Boxers Ladies Night: 1/2 Price Drinks!, $2 Coors Light, 21 22 23 Miller Lite, Labatt DJ Beats (Front Bar) DJ Beats (Front Bar) STAR FARM Bud Light Drafts DJ Minze (Back Bar) and DJ Minze (Back Bar) $3 Bud Light Platinums DJ Beats (Front Bar) DJ Minze (Back Bar)
WED: $1.75 House-Brewed Pints,
For More Information Contact Us: (517) 3512222 www.dublinsquare.net Or Text: “Dublin Square” to 839863 for specials & updates.
Specials Run Open to Close Monday - Sunday! Go Green!
$2 Domestic Pints & Wells $3 Premium/Micro/Craft Pints $3.50 Beef Schawarma Sandwiches, $5.50 Falafel Salads & $6 Chicken Schawarma Salads
TGI Friday! Live Music! $3.00 Pints, Bombs, Bacardi, Stoli
$3 ALL DRAFT PINTS, $3 Jack Daniels, Wells, Domestic Bottles, Soco Lime, Kamakaze
$2 Domestic Pints & $4 Bombs, $3 Captain & Bacardi Drinks, $2 Washington Apple Shots, Cheeseburger Combo/Falafurger Combo w/Pitcher $11 Dom/$13 Craft
*Ladies Night~ Every Thursday! Satisfaction Saturday! Live DJs All Night Long $2.50 Pints and $3.50 Calls
$3.50 Pints of Coors Lt, Miller Lite, Bud Light, Labatt Blue Light $3.50 Well Liquor DJ Beats
Satisfaction Saturday! Live Music! $2.50 Pints $3.50 Calls
It’s a great day to be a Spartan! Open early for all your tablegating needs!!
Go Green! Go White! $5 Domestic & $7 Craft/Premium Pitchers, $5 16oz Long Islands, $5 22oz Dead Guy Ales, $2 SoCo Limes, $5 Off Bottles & $1 Off Glasses All Our "Other" Wines , $12.95 Surf N Turf, $2 off All Veggie Entrees
Harper’s Half Off Wednesday The Lowest Prices In East Lansing
$3 Bloody Marys $3 Mimosas $3.00 ALL Draft Pints $8 Burger and Pint Special
Sunday Funday! $2.00 Pints open til 7 ½ off Adult Beverages & Pizza 7-close
Closed for Lions football
$3 Managers Choice Craft Beer Pints, $3 16oz Oasis Bloody Marys & Mimosas, $6 Oasis Margarita Pitchers $3.50 Oasis Margarita Glasses $2 Well Whiskey Drinks $5 Off Kabob Combos For Two & $2 Off Veggie Sampler Appetizers
Please call (517) 332-2959 for Bar Crawls Live entertainment 6 nights/week
Follow us on Twitter! @HarpersMSU
$2 Bottles of Miller Lite, Bud Light, Coors Lt, Labatt Blue Light, $2 Wells
No Cover! $3.00 Burgers til 4 $2.00 Pints 7 til close
$4 Domestic Pitchers $5 Premium Pitchers $3 Blue Shots
$2 Domestic Bottles $3 Premium/Micro/Craft Bottles $4 Featured Martinis $2.50 Glasses of House Wine $6 1/2 Lbs. Cheeseburger & Falafurger Combo
Book Harper’s & RUSH For Fundraisers, Meet and Greets, Barcrawls!
$2 Wells $3 All Pints $4 Pitchers of Labatt DJ Juan Trevino
Free Pizza Rama! No Cover - Guest DJ! 7pm - Close: $2.00 Wells, $3.50 Well Doubles, $10.50 Buckets of Corona
NO COVER! $2.50 ALL Call Drinks $2.50 Miller Lite, Coors Lite and Rolling Rock Bottles, $2.50 Call Drinks, $3.50 Long Islands, $2.50 SoCo Lime and Kamikaze shots
$3 Made-in-Michigan Beers (Bottles and Pints), $5 Off Bottles & $1 Off Glasses of All, Our Made in Michigan Wines, $6 Pitchers of Oasis Mai Tai's, $3.50 Glasses of Oasis Mai Tai's, $3 Off Select Appetizers
$1.75 House-Brewed Pints, $2 Shots, $2.25 Cocktails, $0.25 Boneless 1oz Wings, $4 Medium & $7 Large Cheese Pizza, $3 Burgers No Cover - Live Entertainment!, Live Music + DJs Starting at 6PM!
No Cover! $2.50 Bud Lite and Budweiser Bottles, $2 Wells, $3 White Gummy Bears
$2 Off Pitchers Of Beer, $5 16oz Sicilian Long Islands, $6 Oasis Sangria Pitchers, $3 All Mediterranean Beer & Booze, $5 Off Bottles & $1 Off Glasses All Our Mediterranean Wines $2.49 Falafel Sandwiches
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1/2 Off Night DJ Juan Trevino
Book Harper’s & RUSH Special Events B-Days, Graduation, and Greek Functions!
Ladies Night: 1/2 Price Drinks!, $2 Coors Light, Miller Lite, Labatt and Bud Light Drafts $3 Bud Light Platinums
Thirsty Girl Thursday! $2.25 Wells and Beers Live DJ
No Cover! Burger Bash 3-8PM 1/2 off All Wells, Calls, Pints, Bottles, Pitchers, Shots and Bombs $2.50 ALL Call Drinks, $2.50 Miller Lite, Coors Lite and Rolling Rock Bottles, $2.50 Call Drinks, $3.50 Long Islands, $2.50 SoCo Lime and Kamikaze shots
$2 Domestic Pints & Wells $3 Premium/Micro/Craft Pints $3.50 Beef Schawarma Sandwiches, $5.50 Falafel Salads & $6 Chicken Schawarma Salads
: e r o l k l o F U S M The Walk Sign Guy By: Meg Enter It was August of 1990. Inflation was on the rise with growing interest rates and consumer pessimism, then came along the great oil shock and we had an intense economic recession on our hands. Plus Will Smith was really into wearing overalls with the straps down. While most of us were barely a twinkle in our parents’ private parts, hundreds of thousands of people became displaced and jobless, including the illustrious creature we know as the “Walk Sign Guy.” The Walk Sign Guy is the man who instructs us so curtly and vigorously that the “walk sign is on the cross, division.” We know his near-robotic voice well. Unfortunately, not only is he the most notorious of all the walk sign guys, but he is also the most mysterious. His story exists in lore and is only told in the most underground of Spartan circles. You know, the type of circles that would tell stories of lore on a Saturday night. The story goes like this: Inside that black box that tells us when to walk, walk with caution or to stop, resides for all eternity a miniature, dwarfish man who was hit harder than most by the economic recession of 1990. He worked as a carnie for fifty years. Because he was raised in a generation where viewing unique people as freak shows was considered not only acceptable but also entirely hilarious, he fit into an extremely specific niche. Benjamin Baum Cox became “The Bearded Lady of Dubai,” although he was really just a small dude with a beard wearing a poorly sewn dress that kind of showed his dick if you looked hard enough. After almost a lifetime of servitude in the circus industry, Benjamin was laid off by his boss, Emilio “The Chupacabra” Esteban. This man was a notorious circus don, rumored to have fought for the acceptance and tolerance of circus workers so they would no longer be viewed as “attractions” not because he believed in their acceptance, but because he made enough to retire and didn’t want to pay them anymore. Ben was old and jobless. He journeyed back to his roots in the Upper Peninsula, looking for work along the way. He came to East Lansing and fell in love with the natural beauty and sensational up-skirt views. He decided to do a service to the tired MSU students on their separate routes to any variety of 8 a.m. classes. He began to announce in his robotic, monotone voice that the walk sign was, in fact, not on the cross, division.
Time passed and he noticed day after day his strength increased. He looked and felt younger. His beard was as silky, smooth and beautiful as the day he started as a traveling circus freak. The little black box in which he resided gave him his youth and virility. He once again felt like the lovely Bearded Lady of Dubai, and so the Walk Sign Guy came to forever fit inside an even smaller niche, literally. Other rumors circulating about the identity of the Walk Sign Guy include that he’s really just a tiny homeless smoker that’s got nothing better to do. Some say he’s a demon, but Willie the Can Man has assured us he does not let demons roam East Lansing. Of course, some of the more radical conspiracy theorist claim he’s just a soulless automated voice operated by the city of East Lansing. However, those who know his true story also know that he serves as a beacon of light that proves even if you’re different, you still know when it’s safe to cross the street. From tragedy has come joy. Not only does the Walk Sign Guy live in that tiny little box, he lives in our hearts.
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No Mo’ Free Randy! A Date with Randy Dickerman By: Andrew Rickerman “So, Em, can I call you Em? Yea, thought so,” Randy said through a quick grin and a mouthful of chips. “I know this great joint you’d love.” He paused to swallow his chips. “All types of sophisticated food, real high-class shit. I’d love to take you sometime.” Randy wiped crumbs on his cargo shorts and extended the bag, “Want some?” Emily squirmed uneasily in her chair as people around them stared, occasionally giving each other the are-you-seeing-this-shit look. Thanks to Randy, IAH 210: Southeast Asian Religions suddenly took a turn for the bizarre, and that was saying something considering today’s lecture was about indigenous nard piercings. Emily began to mumble rapidly. She tried to think of anything, absolutely anything that would help her escape her doomed fate. Randy interrupted before she could respond, though, “Don’t worry, it’s natural to be anxious,” Randy said as he slammed another handful of chips into his mouth. A few missed and bounced off his protruding belly, “it’s not every day you get asked out by a guy like me… I saw ya givin’ me the eye earlier. I’m a good dude, gotta give the ladies what they crave, ya know?” The professor dismissed class and Randy sauntered towards the door. He tossed his empty bag to the ground, then ran his hand over his bulging stomach. “See ya at sex, I mean six,” he said with a wink. Emily blankly stared, jaw dropped, and wondered how she found herself in such an awful predicament. Maybe this was karma’s punishment for her skipping class, maybe Krishna was just looking for a laugh or perhaps Vishnu was pissed and finally had enough of her referring to him as “that one blue dude.” Regardless, one thing was certain: she was going on a date with Randy Dickerman.
The clock rolled unceremoniously past 6, then past 6:30, and finally settled on 7. Emily breathed a sigh of relief. He must have forgotten, or maybe his arm was stuck in a vending machine somewhere, a comforting thought. Her candy prison fantasy was quickly broken by the screeching tires of a rusty ‘91 Civic in her driveway. That couldn’t be good. She came to the door just in time to see Randy stumble out of his clunker. He wore dress pants that were three inches too short and a dress shirt that was three sizes too big. Sweat poured down his face. Unaware of his appearance, Randy slurred, “Sup, baby! You ready for the night of your life? You look bangin’, by the way.” Mortified, Emily responded, “Are you drunk? And I’m not feeling well. Maybe we shou—“ “C’mon, girl. You know Papa Grande needs to get a lil’ bombed for a night of stimulating conversation. Besides, I was a little nervous. Compliments to you and your hoots.” After debating how bad Emily’s “flu” really was, Randy ushered her into his heap of rolling scrap metal. At the entrance of Brody Cafeteria, the so-called “great joint,” Emily tried not to look anyone in the eye. Restaurant, cafeteria, it didn’t matter the location, she was enraged just by being at Randy’s side. “Ah, damn it. Forgot my ID babe, can you swipe us in?” Randy asked without making eye contact. Emily felt a part of her wilt away as she put her head down and swiped her card.
Almost immediately after entering Randy said, “Holy shit, they have burritos!” Emily knew it was either escape now or pepper spray later, so she bolted through the masses to the bathroom and hid for the next two hours. Safe at last. Randy didn’t seem to mind. He devoured his four beef and cheese burritos, no vegetables “because veggies are for the gays,” and chalked it up as another girl who couldn’t handle a free, untamed man. He sat alone and finished his meal. On his way out the door he noticed a table of five girls. He smiled, rubbed sour cream from his mustache and onto his pants, and approached. “Sup, ladies. Name’s Randy.”
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N O W HIRIN W RITING | MARK
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G ! TIONS |
Bartender of the Week Relationship Status: In love with life
What was the first CD you ever owned?: I don’t remember, but it may or may not have been Nelly.
Major: Lazer Favorite drink: Manhattan
If you had to lose one appendage, which one would you lose and why?: I guess an arm, because I would want both my legs above all else.
Favorite shot: Magic Johnson Disgusting drink: Prairie Fire What would you title a TV show about MSU?: On the Banks of the Red Cedar
Bartenders who can do cool tricks with bottles and stuff: Yea or Nay?: It depends on if they are cool in real life or if they just do tricks to impress people because they want friends. But generally speaking, yea.
What’s the third best restaurant in East Lansing?: That’s a tough one... anything open at 3 a.m. Explain twerking in five words or less: Must have ass. What rumor about yourself would you like to start?: One that’s true ... I’m a very passionate lover. What’s one thing you wish everyone would care less about?: Celebrities that don’t deserve their fame. And their babies.
Kevin of Harper’s
What’s the worst prank you’ve seen someone pull at a party?: That thing where you tap the top of someone’s beer bottle and it overflows. Lame. Can you name a player on Youngstown State?: I didn’t know they still gave names to people in Ohio. Why should people read The Black Sheep?: Because I heard they have groupies.
Recipe for disaster
Drinking Game Boxing
Sweet Potato Fries
At The Black Sheep, we don’t support roughhousing of any kind, but we do love a good drinking game to get you drunk pretty quick. Get some friends and some girls in bikinis. Welcome to Boxing. *ding ding*
Sweet potato fries are all the rage lately, like twerking and hashtagging the shit out of everything. Instead of going to your favorite restaurant and tossing down a Hamilton for a basket of ‘em, try making a batch yourself. It’s actually not that hard.
What You’ll Need: A stop watch, 2 shot glasses, 2 dice and some beer. Number of Players: Four Level of Intoxication: Let’s hope you can take a punch well.
What You’ll Need: A few pounds of sweet potatoes, cinnamon, olive oil, salt and pepper. Cook Time: About 30 minutes Fatty Factor: It’s a vegetable, or something. You’re fine.
How to Play: - Two of the players (called “boxers”) play head-to-head, like a boxing match, and sit at opposite ends of a table. - The other two players act as the boxers’ “coaches” and sit to the side of their desired player. - Give each boxer a die and a shot glass full of beer. - One of the coaches start the timer, and the boxers each roll their die. - The boxer who rolls the lower number takes “the punch” and drinks their shot of beer. Their coach then has to quickly refill the shot glass for the next roll. - The game continues like this: The boxers roll again, the lower number drinks and the shot glass is refilled. - If the boxers roll the same number, just re-roll! - Play three rounds (for three minutes each) with a 30 second break in between. - Once the boxers finish, switch places with the coaches and keep going!
Let’s Get Baked: - Preheat your oven to 450 degrees. - Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil. - Wash off your potatoes and scrub off any dirt. - If you want, peel the potatoes, but it’s not really necessary. - Cut the potatoes into strips so they’re sized like normal fries. You know what those are right? - Lay out the strips on the aluminum foil as flat as you can. - Drizzle a little olive oil across the fries. Move ‘em around a bit so the oil is evenly dispersed. - Sprinkle on the cinnamon, salt and pepper. - Put the fries in the oven for 20 minutes, stopping halfway through to move them around a bit. Add more cinnamon if you want! - Let them cool a bit before serving, so they don’t burn your mouth or mush together. - Dip them in ketchup, honey mustard or nothing at all!
The Game Ends When: A real fight breaks out. No blood in the beer!
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Not a fan of cinnamon? Try them with honey! Or parmesan cheese. There’s no way to go wrong with this.
serious By: Zach Wyrzykowski
A Guide to Faking Your Way Through Any TV Series Conversation
So the first few weeks of the new semester have gone smoothly in the stenchbox you call a dorm. Your roommate probably isn’t going to skin you in your sleep, and you’ve been dodging the topic of favorite television programs until one day it rears its ugly head. You feel safe informing your roommate that you’ve casually dabbled in a few of the big dogs, like Breaking Bad and The Walking Dead, when he springs on you a terrible truth: he follows his show with devoutness that would frighten the Pope, and now is insisting that you begin catching up on all 25 seasons while he tells you how
great each episode it is. Somehow, he does this to the minutest of detail, while avoiding spoilers. Luckily, there’s a way to avoid this sweaty, fanfic-filled fate: fake it. With only a few vague references, a “favorite character” and a falsified understanding of some inside jokes thanks to your best buds at The Black Sheep, the most loyal Whovian can pass for a Game of Thrones nerd in all but the most engaging of conversations.
game of thrones
breaking bad The Gist: Walter White is a brilliant teacher until he gets cancer, starts cooking meth, shaves his head, and gets progressively more ruthless. Also his brother-in-law is in the DEA. This leads to delightful hijinks of the murder-y kind.
The Gist: Skyrim with politics. It sucks to be a Stark, the Lannisters are richer than Romney, and boobs are everywhere. Like: Tyrion. He’s a dwarf who can talk circles around other every character. He bones everything he can reach, and then some, before falling in love with a whore. A tough little bastard, overall.
Like: Jessie Pinkman, Walt’s cooking partner. He gets less chill with Walt’s self-serving tendencies throughout the series, and tries to distance himself from his meth-filled murder parade several times. Hate: Women. Walt’s wife, Jessie’s girlfriends, and really every other female in the series ends up screwing everything up for everyone all the time, somehow.
Hate: King Joffrey. He’s a blonde, seventeen-year-old ball of shit. If you ever mention him without using the words “rat bastard” in the same sentence, you’ve been found out. Fun Phrases: “Valar Morghulis.” “Dragons.” “Hodor.”
Fun Phrases: “Science, bitch!” “Say my name.” “Minerals.”
Difficulty to Fake: Difficult
Difficulty to Fake: Casual
The Newsroom The Gist: Will McAvoy is a news anchor for ACN, a fictional news network set in our universe. His ex-girlfriend/ executive producer shows up and helps him make the news less bullshit and more honest. The entire cast of coworkers get way too involved in each other’s personal lives. Like: Charlie Skinner, McAvoy’s boss and friend. His bow-tie always makes him look like a balloon salesman, and his freak-outs are always followed by large amounts of bourbon. Hate: Reese Lansing, the president of ACN. He’s a sneaky bastard who desperately tries to bring Will and his team down for the sake of profits from advertising. Fun Phrases: “Don Quixote.” “Throw out the rundown.” “Bigfoot.”
Difficulty to Fake: Easy
Sherlock The Gist: A twist on Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s classic detective tales set in modern times. Sherlock is essentially a more badass Sheldon Cooper with a stalwart sidekick and a Blackberry. Like: Irene Adler, dominatrix, master thief and the only person Sherlock shows any interest in romantically. Hate: James Moriarty. He’s as smart as Sherlock, with a metric ton more annoying mannerisms and facial expressions. Fun Phrases: “Mind palace.” “Sherlocked.” “Tea.”
Difficulty to Fake: Elevated
Arrested Development The Gist: A recently-revived sitcom, this show follows the Bluths, a wealthy family with more self-destructive tendencies than Kurt Cobain. It falls to Michael, the unofficial head of the family, to stop the family from destroying itself. Like: Lucille Bluth. She’s an alcoholic, judgmental hypocrite with a dash of racism thrown in. Lucille could teach a college course on backhanded compliments. Hate: Barry Zuckerkorn. He’s the family’s bumbling lawyer, and frequently shows up to court even less prepared than the Bluths. Fun Phrases: “Banana stand.” “No touching.” ”Analrapist.”
Difficulty to Fake: Medium
Dr. who The Gist: Quirky time traveling British guy in a blue police box whose mission is to convince you that everything in the world is actually alive and trying to kill you. This show’s been going on since the beginning of time, so it’s probably best to avoid trying to watch every season at all costs. Like: The Doctor. All of them. There are 13, but they’re all the same person because British people drive on the left side of the road and scoff at things like logic and dentistry. Hate: Daleks. They’re basically a race of R2-D2s, if R2-D2 was big, shiny, and wanted to electrocute everything with his dick. Fun Phrases: “T.A.R.D.I.S.” “Sonic screwdriver.” “Exterminate.”
Difficulty to Fake: Expert
the walking dead The Gist: Zombies. But mostly people talking about them. Rick Grimes is the leader of a group of survivors, and spends most of his free time letting people screw him over, hallucinating about his dead wife, and not watching his son. Like: Daryl Dixon. He’s the no-bullshit redneck with a crossbow who exists to kick ass and take ears. Hate: Carl Grimes, Rick’s thirteen-year-old son. He thinks he’s hot shit because he gets to wear a cowboy hat and doesn’t flinch while shooting his mombie in the head. Fun Phrases: “Carl, get in the house.”
Difficulty to Fake: Easy
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