If your rolls are 2 for 5 your fish were for sure raised in poverty
2. The United States Dollar
Talkin exchange rates buddy
3. Those birds outside your window at 6am
…would kind of suck if they were cheep-er amirite?
4. Ice cream with edible gold flakes
Not a bargain, intentionally
In today’s tumultuous economy, more musicians than ever are saving money by foregoing the man’s traditional instruments. DIY instruments are on their way back in a big way, and America’s seminal jug band is the next big thing of bands, trust me. If one of these sounds like you, get practicing. What will you do when the jug comes?
No jug band without a jug. Without a jug, your group becomes officially known as a “spasm band” which is cool I guess but probably not what you were going for originally. To uphold the jug you must be of strong will and conviction. You know how to take charge and get a rhythm going. You’re the face and neck of your jug band and better be prepared to lead with charisma. The volume of the jug you choose is critical, you only get one jug.
Something you probably have lying around anyway. Washboardists are like the wacky one in the band and provide a really important tinny aspect to every performance. You could really to whatever you want with this instrument because its just like a piece of metal, but you’re the type to step up to that challenge and make the best of it. Tap on it, scrub on it, use it as a little personal roof, and above all, stay positive, stay individual.
Some would argue you invented American folk music. Many would say you need to get a little more self-aware and realize that your delightful contributions to country and bluegrass is rooted in one of many incidents of blatant cultural appropriation that shaped the American culture we know today. Appropriated or not, your sound is essential and you are both the star-crossed heart and deep-seated guilt of this organization.
Fake Kazoo (Tissue Paper and Comb)
You’re an individual. A true maverick. But you already knew that. You make things as well as music, as any renaissance-person must. This is just the way you exist. Innovative. You hardly even exist anymore, you just innovate, create, demonstrate, relate, abdicate, chelate, oscillate, transmigrate, palpate, and elucidate.
What a classic. Classy and understated is your M.O. Like dark gray and navy, and kazoos, you are perennially a touch of class, a sophisticated staple of any outfit. Keep on doing you, babe; even though you might seem a little overdone, square, or even basic to the untrained eye, you’re obviously a catch.
If you have two spoons to spare this is the instrument for you. You have impeccable rhythm and a percussive personality that can’t be put into words, like a rousing spoons solo on the spoons. You’ll always be able to eat soup with both hands so that’s pretty nice. A lot of people tend to underappreciate you, but the humble spoonsist doesn’t mind. Practice modesty and wow them with your heaping spoonfuls of melodies.
By Heywood Jablomi
Bad Writing Enthusiast
NEW BRUNSWICK — Deep in the dungeons of Murray Hall reside the creative writing students, most of them a couple commas short of a full sentence. They spend a lot of their time endlessly distracted by anything they can get their hands on or chugging energy drinks, but occasionally they focus for long enough to produce a mostly-complete short story.
Many of them are content to write whatever they can think of, maybe give it a proofread if they aren’t sleep-deprived to the point of being brain dead, then turn it in, but occasionally someone wants something more. Every once in a while, someone will think of something that they think hasn’t been done before. If they’re lucky, then they just don’t know who had the idea first, but some aren’t so fortunate. What the students don’t realize is that if something hasn’t been done in the hundreds of years that humans have been writing novels, it hasn’t been done for a reason.
Of those, some will have a rare moment of clarity and scrap the bad idea entirely. Some will even realize they’ve been trapped for weeks and search for an exit, only to realize that Murray Hall has been designed to keep them within indefinitely. Unfortunately, some will insist on seeing their project through to the bitter end, not realizing their mistake until it’s time for workshopping.
On workshop day, the student will be tied to a stick and held over a bonfire while their fellows will list of everything they hated about their story. The better the story, the higher their chance of getting out alive. Write something absolutely atrocious, however, and the student runs the risk of being roasted to death.
Such a fate befell a young freshman on a cold February morning, when he failed to realize that writing an avant-garde piece from the
perspective of a villain was an absolutely horrible idea, and spent a half-hour over open flames while his classmates gleefully tore his story to shreds, some of them literally, in front of him before finally succumbing.
By Sue de Nimm
NEW BRUNSWICK — Despite her best attempts, Rutgers professor Sheila Fuqueue has still yet to succeed at attaining a chili pepper on her Rate My Professor profile. Having already slept with 3 students in her Women’s Empowerment course, Fuqueue is struggling to come up with a good method of being awarded that elusive spicy vegetable of attraction.
The chili pepper was added to the Rate My Professor website to allow bored students to relive their glory days in high school and symbolically jack off to their hot teachers. Students can then check impending professors so they can pick a section in which they can at least daydream a reality in which they have a shot with someone way out of their league. For Professor Fuqueue, the lack of such recognition is humiliating.
“What more can I do?” said Fuqueue, fumbling over a half used bottle of Xanax and some used tissues. “I already bend over to pick up my clicker with my blouse unbuttoned at least 5 times a lecture while exclaiming ‘Whoops! I’m such a silly ol’ slut’. I mean I guess I could try anal.” Other professors in the department have the chili pepper, despite claiming to not even have given so much as a handie to a single one of their students.
“I mean, she was like, OK I guess,” said one of the fucked students Craigory Jamison, while skateboarding and drinking a Corona Lite. “I can’t just start handing out chili peppers to every professor that sucks my dick. There has to be an effort made, and I didn’t feel like she put in that effort.”
The University has stated that they will begin to crack down on instances like these that tarnish the good name of Rutgers by making sure that professors are working extra hard and ruling that no chili pepper be awarded to a teacher that hasn’t sucked and fucked at least a dozen students.