The Slant» Featured

Right Thing Done for Wrong Reasons

Christian Whitmer — Wed, 12 Oct 2011 04:01:08 +0000

A local woman, who had momentarily lost control of her legs in the middle of a crowded intersection, was heroically saved by Oscar Skaggs on Monday afternoon.
Running behind schedule, Skaggs had flagged down a taxi in order to make it to his son’s playoff game. But the taxi, which reeked powerfully of body odor and pesticide, was too much for him to bear.
“He’s a hero,” said taxi driver Michael Yamur, “he was clearly anxious to get out of the cab, get to the game on time, but when he saw that poor lady, he didn’t even hesitate.”
Shoving a twenty-dollar bill at the cab driver, and telling him to keep the $14.70 in change, Skaggs raced to the girl’s side.
“It doesn’t surprise me at all,” said Skaggs’ long time friend, Robert Sanderson, of Skaggs’ heroics. “We used to do the same thing in high school to try to pick up chicks.
“We called it the Grope-a-Gimp.”
Skaggs didn’t stop there, accompanying the lady to the hospital and badgering doctors to make sure that her longterm prognosis was positive.
“When he found out she had nobody to accompany her to the hospital, [Skaggs] took it upon himself to make sure she was okay,” said a paramedic impressed with Skaggs’ selflessness.
“She’s single, dude. You know what that means. She will be alone and in need of emotional support in this trying time,” Skaggs was overheard saying in a phone conversation to his brother. “Just pick up Timmy after the game. No, you don’t actually have to watch him pitch. Why the hell do you think I’m here?”
Skaggs was hesitant to call himself a hero, asking reporters to focus on “what really matters.”
“Seriously,” he said, “you guys are reporters. Can one of you do your job and find out if she’s going to walk again, so I know whether to give her my number or not?”
Even in such a hectic time, Skaggs’ loved ones were on his mind. “Don’t tell my wife I’m at the hospital. She’ll probably freak out, especially if she hears I’m with a girl again.”

Don’t forget to come out to the very first Slant meeting of the year!

Dan King — Thu, 25 Aug 2011 07:19:53 +0000

Hey there everyone, don’t forget that the first Slant meeting of the year will be held this Sunday at 8:30 PM in Sarratt 130. Be there and make sure you bring your funny!

http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=103391299766226

The Real Sing-Off

Justin Barisich — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 21:56:00 +0000

After returning from taking third in the International Championship of Collegiate A Cappella (ICCA) and conquering nearly the entirety of the a cappella world, the Vanderbilt Melodores decided to concoct a new in-house competition to keep themselves awake and interested in their own performance at their most recent concert this past weekend in the Student Life Center.
Erratic-and-nearly-spasmodic-dancing Melodore, Zan Berry, first brought the idea to the rest of the Melofolk. While doing a cross between “The Robot” and “The Garden Sprinkler” at practice one evening, he conjectured, “Fellas, now we know that we’re all ballers when we sing together, but which of us is the most baller?”
Sultry-as-all-hell-and-taller-than-most-statues Melodore, Turi Clausell ,immediately responded with the boast of, “Oh, all you boys know it’s me. Change ain’t gonna come til I say it is, and you kids best believe that I’m heads above you in this game. Wanna high five? Hahaha, nice try, but you can’t. Get to my level.”
Still attempting to get out of the ensemble and to stop harmonizing, wildchild-fratstar-prettyboy Melodore, Matthew Thompson, and mohawked-motor-mouthed Melodore, Brandon Goodman, simultaneously exclaimed, “But fellas, how do we gauge who wins? What do we use to measure our individual ballernesses?”
Once country-all-star-boy-scout Melodore, Nathan Hall, interpreted golden-glove-beat-boxing Melodore Justin Kenney’s Morse Code and epiphany-worthy message, they voted and agreed that the winner would be determined by the amount of clothing that the audience members voluntarily removed whenever each Melodore sang.
With the collective of manly voices at odds, it was only a matter of time before matters grew catty.
Multi-talented-and-sleep-deprived Melodore, Aidan Carr, chuckled smugly to himself. He knew he would have every pair of panties from all the Vanderbilt Off-Broadway members in attendance.
Voice-so-high-pitched-he-could-be-missing-his-Adam’s-apple Melodore, Seth Johnson, wanted to add some clarifications to the rules. After inhaling a small balloon of helium to get a leg up, he chipmunk-chirped, “Guys, guys, guys, I don’t even have to say words. I just make arbitrary semi-instrumental noises and all of the ladies instantly begin throwing their bras at me. Especially the big girls, they love them some little red head, if ya know what I mean. Soooooo, words don’t actually need to be sung. Deal? Cool.”
Moves-so-slick-he-should-be-black Melodore, Ben Edquist, then lobbied that the competition include a dancing element that would allow him to decimate the competition with a single hip shimmy. Jealously, the other Melos denied his request. “This is intended to be a singing competition, you tiny dancer,” pompously noted knighted-and-archivally-wise Melodore, Will Timbers.
Hip-hop-star-in-the-making Melodore, Nick Wells, had only three words to drop, “Black and Gold,” after which he Michael-Jackson-grabbed his crotch, slapped Edquist across the face with a sequined white glove, spun on his heel, and found himself on Youtube to watch his own music video on non-stop replay to psych himself up.
Ivory-tower-of-innocence Melodore, Tyler Verdell, opted out of the competition and grabbed his darkest pair of sunglasses to wear throughout the concert. “Momma wouldn’t approve,” he stated briefly when asked why he would refuse throngs of attractive women throwing themselves at his melodic, hairy self. Walking away, he shook his ass like a duck.
Quiet-and-intriguing-enough-to-keep-you-wondering-what-he’s-really-thinking Melodore, Richard Whalen, just smiled silently at the rest of the Melos. He was already planning to take the win by stripping off his own clothes and running buck-ass-nekked across the stage half-way through the show.
Resident-thunder-bass-Zeus Melodore, Trevor Fortenberry, just nodded calmly in the corner of the room. Knowing victory was surely his – his bassy voice is so powerful that it literally, and selectively, vibrates off women’s clothes. He simply released a James Earl Jones-worthy grumble and replied, “Goooooood, goooooood,” when they all decided that the competition was indeed on.
Following the concert, the winner will be determined upon Melodore founders Shane Stever’s and John Baunach’s unbiased inspection of the video from the concert. Currently, the video is still under review. The winner will receive the right to pick his favorite lady from each of the other Melodores’ hordes of admirers for his own enjoyment without any protestation from the losers.
The selected ladies are, of course, also allowed to object, but with those good vibrations, they’d have to be melofools to do so.

Gospel of Mark, Volume VII: 7th Heaven, Better Than the First Six

Mark Sakauye — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 04:07:48 +0000

Welcome to the seventh and final edition of The Gospel According to Mark. In this section, I’ll be answering all of your questions with the wisdom I’ve garnered from over twenty-two whole years on this earth. So, sit back and prepare to fill your brain-hole with my knowledge. Don’t like it? Just remember, no means yes, and yes means anal.

Dear Mark,
Why am I not doing my homework right now?
Signing off,
Pissed-Off Procrastinator

Dear Typical College Student,
The answer to this question is the same as the answer to the question, “Why did the dinosaurs die out?” No, it’s not because you touch yourself at night. It’s because a giant, cataclysmic asteroid struck the earth, causing a thick layer of ash to propagate into the atmosphere. This, in turn, blocked out sunlight, which caused plants to die, thereby severely limiting the earth’s oxygen supply, in addition to creating a prolonged winter period. The lack of oxygen and the intense freezing cold killed off the dinosaurs as well as any motivation to do homework.

Dear Mark the Omniscient,
Is it true that if you don’t use it, you lose it?
Sincerely,
Prudish Prof

Dear Yep It’s True,
As with any budget surplus, if you don’t use it, you will lose it. If I’ve learned anything from The Office (or more specifically its “The Surplus” episode), it’s that a surplus must be spent, otherwise you will have to run a lemonade stand. Wait, that doesn’t make sense. I can’t really remember too well. Let’s reason this through. Oscar’s explanation had something to do with lemonade, so I feel like that part is right. Maybe it’s, “otherwise you will have to drink so much lemonade you end up peeing everywhere.” No, that doesn’t sound right either. “Otherwise you have to buy new office equipment”? Well, whatever, the point is yes, you have to use it if you don’t want to lose it.

Dear Mark the Omniscient,
Which seat can I take?
Yours forever and ever,
Nefarious Nelly

Dear Indecisive Bastard,
I couldn’t decide whether I should berate you for your Friday reference or for your use of “can,” so I’m going to do neither. Instead, I’m going to debate the merits of partyin’ and looking forward to the weekend. Ha! See what I did there? No, I’m not going to do that either. Fooled you guys! Man, I’m funny. What I’m really going to do is fully expound upon the ordering of the days of the week. OHHH, DOUBLE FAKE OUT! You guys are making this too easy for me. But seriously, have you considered taking the only open seat? No? Well, now you have. Maybe now you can finally stop asking that stupid-ass question. Bitch.

If you have a question of your own that you would like to have passed through the mental bowels of Mark the Omniscient, well then you’re shit out of luck. This is my last column, and as such I feel like I’m supposed to give you some sort of heartwarming, sentimental, and possibly inspirational statement. I can’t really think of anything though, so I’ll leave you with this. When in Rome. When in Rome.

How I learned to Football Good, Like a Man Does

Richard T McGee — Thu, 21 Apr 2011 17:10:56 +0000

As a woman, I’m kept pretty busy. Between doing laundry, cleaning things, and cooking three meals a day for my husband, Frank, sometimes it feels like I’m being pulled in every direction. So it’s no surprise that I’ve never had the time to learn the ins and outs of the complex game of football.
It’s not that I didn’t want to know about football. My husband and his friends always sounded like they were having a great time when they were watching the games. But of course, whenever the game was on I would be in the kitchen, working on all the fancy dips and snacks Frank and his friends would eat. And after each game was over I’d be so busy with the dishes that I’d forget all about silly man stuff like football.
But that all changed last week when I attended “Football 101 for Women.”
You see, the new football coach at Vanderbilt, Jim Franklin, figured out that there are lots of women like me who just don’t know how to football. So Franklin decided to offer an event where he could teach us all about it. I’m still not sure exactly what inspired Franklin to do this, but then again I’m only a woman, and it’s not my job to know why men do what they do.
I first heard about the event from a leaflet that was placed in my mailbox. As a woman, I obviously don’t know how to read. So I gave the leaflet to my husband and asked him to read it.
At first I thought the idea was rather silly. I mean “Football 101?” It almost sounds like a class! And if I had wanted to learn things, I would have been born a man.
But Frank seemed to really like the idea, so last Saturday I got all the vacuuming done early and headed out to learn about football.
I must say, despite my misgivings, this event was actually a lot of fun! Coach Franklin taught us all sorts of interesting things about the wonderful sport of football. Why, I’ll never forget when Coach led off the event by saying “Football is fun game HIT HIT HIT go!”
Franklin brought a lot of energy to the event and really made the sport come alive. “There are people and they go and like CRASH bang and it’s like a big hit and then he goes and TOUCHDOWN!” (That was how coach explained the opening kickoff.)
I was so glad that I brought my voice recorder with me so I could record every word of Coach Franklin’s lecture. That way I’ll never forget all the great lessons he taught us, like how football has a bunch of downs and kicking.
And the lesson didn’t just stick to football! About fifteen minutes into his talk Coach Franklin decided to give us ladies a few beauty tips. Franklin went around and told every single woman in attendance either “I wanna fuck your titties,” or “UGGO!” depending on each woman’s level of attractiveness.
Don’t tell my husband, Frank, but I must say I was pretty happy to be granted an emphatic “I wanna fuck your titties.”
I enjoyed my experience with Football 101 so much that afterwards I suggested a few more classes that the football team might want to offer. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if us womenfolk could have a nice group of men teach us about confusing topics like cars? Or “voting?” Maybe some man could even teach me how to read!
Just kidding, I know women’s brains can’t process written words.

Is Good Writing Really Does Matter That Much?

Katy Jaramillo — Wed, 20 Apr 2011 02:20:11 +0000

Writing is about being expression and telling something you think. Passive voice is often thought of by people to be a bad thing. There are times it is not bad but actually good. In fact. It is making me tired of it that people are not in favor of using passive voice. And also “to be” verbs. It is okay to be using how you want to write because you should be yourself. Being a good at writing is not just about using fancy big words that are really long. It is about also being able to talk about things clear in a way that is understandable by you. Passive voice is something that can be sound real good in a sentence if it is used rightly.
Vanderbuilt is having too high standards for writing. Not every person is able to write about things like other people who can write about things better. It is so happens that lots of people who are good at writing are also different at writing from each other. The meaning of this is that there are different ways a person is good at writing. For example. A person who is good at writing like this is me, and there might be others who also write the same way like what I do. People should not be critical of people when people write because it is personal and sometimes even important and so people should just learn that there are lots of different ways to write about things.
It is not easy to write without using “to be” verbs because without them things could not be what they are. You could not say something is like something, or not. Things would have to be doing things all the time and stuff. Also passive voice should be okay and good because sometimes things are, without doing something.
In conclusion, to end my writing it must be said by me that good writing is your opinion or not. My writing might not be liked by you but that does not mean it is not liked by anyone, or someone else. It is liked by me so that means my opinion of it is good after all. So really the answer is that it does not matter because it is that you should be yourself in writing. The end.

Tailgating Cutoff Rule Causes World to End Entirely

Evan Bell — Wed, 13 Apr 2011 17:44:03 +0000

The apocalypse began in early April with new regulations that will require all football tailgate parties to end thirty minutes before kick-off. “A tailgate is a social event intended to create a festive atmosphere among fans prior to attending a football game,” read an announcement defending the decision. “Also, hail Satan.”
The final words of the message – the ‘Hail Satan’ part – revealed a secret contract that the administration made with the devil in its long quest to systematically wipe out any fun at this school. As one fraternity brother eloquently complained, the restrictions will deprive the campus of its unique atmosphere and force students to go to the unreasonable trouble of “finding somewhere off campus to get belligerently drunk.”
Satan’s wrath soon struck again in the form of a hurricane-like storm that knocked out power on frat row for days. “They should have understood that the rule would not only fail to boost student attendance, but would actually lower it!” cried one Greek student as he scurried into shelter while heavy winds knocked down trees all around.
A volcanic eruption occurred immediately afterwards, and the fiery catastrophe was followed by a meteor strike and an avalanche. The next day, the evil demon Pinhead emerged from an abyss to the depths of the underworld that appeared in the middle of West End to lead the invasion. “Greek life seemed like a good place to start since it’s the only social scene on campus,” Pinhead explained, rubbing together his hands with glee. “Depriving them of a half-hour of tailgating… Ah, the suffering. The sweet, sweet suffering.”
Faced with this Satanic invasion, students have maintained appropriately vigorous protests. “Why did the administration have to bring such unbearable suffering upon us?” lamented one desperate student as he fled from a hoard of Satanic ogres, gargoyles, and Velociraptors.
There may be no stopping this war against all happiness and joy and campus unless the new tailgating rules are repealed. If not, scientists have already identified the next step in Lucifer’s diabolical plan: an impending demonic cicada invasion.