Archive for the ‘unnecessarily parenthetical first person narrative’ Category

VideOkay: Student Trustee Mash-Up

Wednesday, April 15th, 2009

Greetings, fellow Cornellian! I come to you with the news that you too have the power to vote for the undergraduate student-elected trustee, one among 64 powerful persons who control Cornell’s destiny. Mostly by consulting with Miss Cleo. The Cornell Daily Sun went down and did the normal journalistic thing of taking video at a debate sponsored by none other than themselves, but I decided to make a mash-up video of the budding politicians’ uncannily uniform rhetoric. It would’ve been longer and better, but my video editing program was being a total [expletive for female genitalia] and lost my work not once, not twice, but thrice. Voting for the Student-elected Trustee ends tomorrow at 8am, but you can enjoy this little guy anytime:

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Ann Coulter: One of the Many Reasons I Hate Connecticut

Friday, March 6th, 2009

Friends don’t let friends drive drunk. Except in Connecticut.
Friends don’t let friends drive drunk. Except in Connecticut.
Being from the lamest borough in New York City (Staten Island, in case you’re from Minnesota), I always took solace in the fact that there were far lamer regions nearby, with which my island could compete and (hopefully) come out on top. There’s the epic battle waged between the people from my ‘hood (my Irish people’s and the Italians’) and Long Island (the Jews’), a battle in which the points of contention were based on the same embarrassing features: annoying accents, materialism amongst its consumer sheeple residents, lack of subway access to Manhattan. With a landfill so massive you can see it from outer space, the battle arguably resulted in Long Island’s favor. Nevertheless, we always had Jersey to agree upon, elevating our geographic (and therefore cultural) superiority. While at Cornell, however, I learned of a strange hilly region directly to the northeast of New York City, a place where, in 1961, some sorry resident emptied her vaginal cavity of one Ann Hart Coulter — our most embarrassing alumna who recently claimed that the Ag School is not a part of the Ivy League.

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Inauguration Special: In Which We Invade The Obama Nation

Tuesday, January 20th, 2009

Obama Nation! Now only 19 dollars and change.
Obama Nation! Now only 19 dollars and change.
After cutting numerous lines, trampling countless fences, and getting “on the nerves” of one testy middle-aged lady with multiple Obama pins (I think we were mock-bewailing Bush’s departure or something), my colleague John-David Brown and I have returned to our friend’s place of residence after an exhausting firsthand view of what actually goes down at a Presidential Inauguration. I capitalize (italics for punniness) the P and the I incorrectly because we are now inescapably into the Age of Obama, as you obviously are aware. And there was no moment more indicative of this new era than at the end of Aretha Franklin’s rendition of “My Country ‘Tis of Thee.” As I anxiously stood on my tippytoes to get a glimpse of the zaftig goddess on the Jumbotron, I was struck by the words she kept on repeating: “Let it rain. Let it rain. Let. It. Rain.”

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