Shocking! These Sexy Electrical Outlets In Ernst-Bessey Hall Will Make You Bolt Out Of Your Seat!

East Lansing is renowned for its sizzling summer bods, ensuring the campus walking experience to be as arousing as possible. However, as this season departs, so does the tight, revealing clothing that let those midriffs and bulging muscles breathe free. But after a month and a half of rubbing your wool-sock clad feet on the carpet of sexuality, charging up your body’s fuck battery, where can you turn to release your static shock of horniness? Look no further than your trusty old friends in Ernst-Bessey Hall’s electrical outlets. Find yourself a quiet corner, because plugging into this new realm of sexy possibilities is going to get you positively turned on.

7.) By the Farm Lane entrance:

This naughty little number sees hot student bods walk by all day long, as they tantalize it with juicy buns, but has yet to go past the “leering” stage. It desperately wants to lose its E Card, but no one will give it the time of day! Be charitable and serve up this rascally little scamp the loving it needs.

6.) First floor, classroom wing:

This sleek sophisticate’s been all around the block and back, serving up warm power surges to anyone who asks nicely. Polished to the nines, it knows how to seduce with a smooth, square frame and two USB ports for ease of penetrable access. Take a ride with an experienced stallion, and feel the power of an outlet who really knows what it’s doing.

5.) Second floor, classroom wing:

Ooh, what’s this? Two lonely little buddies, longing for power to course through each other, but forever separated by the unfortunate architecture of Ernst-Bessey’s internal wiring? If only they had a ripe, supple body to connect them, someone ready and willing to lay it all on the power line for love and redemption.

4.) Third floor, classroom wing:

This one lets you get real close, the fuckin’ minx. For those less interested in the sultry form of an outlet but more in the raw mechanics of love making, this tried-and-true nugget will get the job done. It’s a bit worse for the wear, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers.

3.) Room 311:

The lights were down in the empty classroom 311 as this sultry dame lounged sexily, dreaming of a proper ravishing. Like a voluptuous singer draped across a grand piano in a sparking ruby red dress, this sideways outlet has ferocious power in its sexuality, as if to say “I know you want me, but I’m going to make you work for it.”

2.) First floor, office wing:

Stuck between offices 188 and 189, this lucky little outlet gets sandwich-fucked on the regular, which accounts for it being upside down— for only an outlet truly in the throes of passion can manage the ole’ flip-over, like a greasy hamburger on a charcoal grill. The levels of pleasure it experiences are unknown to man.

1.) Right across from 304:

And there it is, a sadly unavailable outlet. Resist the selfish feelings of sadness or anger. You don’t own this outlet. Point of fact, you don’t own any outlets. It has what it needs, and you have to move on with your life. You’ve spent all your time building up this outlet in your mind, constructing a fantasy to fall in love with. But in the end, that’s what it is. A fantasy. Let go and move on, for both your sakes.

Thus concludes our promenade through the majestic sexual possibilities within Ernst-Bessey. Feel free to bookmark this page in your “Arousing Pornography” internet folder, as few inanimate objects drip with seduction like electrical outlets.

Published originally at The Black Sheep.

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Golden Circles Fill Your Eyes

2/5

Despite some arguments that hope to see Kingsman: The Golden Circle director Matthew Vaughn as a deceptively genius satirist, his latest work is merely a well-made action flick that wants to push some buttons and have broad appeal. In the arena of button pushing, Vaughn deploys gender politics nostalgic for the “good old days” of 1960s Hollywood misogyny, while in turn lifting imagery important to the cultural moment that appeases selective demographic groups across the political spectrum. The result is a bizarre, hyper-political yet strangely neutral work that has little to say but panderingly seeks approval from as many audiences as possible.

The Golden Circle, the latest adaptation of the Kingsman comic book series created by Dave Gibbons and Mark Millar, stars Taron Egerton as Eggsy Unwin, a.k.a. Galahad, an agent of the British spy organization Kingsman. After a former agent in training (Edward Holcroft) returns to cause mayhem, Eggsy and Merlin (Mark Strong) are forced to team up with the Statesman, Kingsman’s American equivalent, led by Champagne (Jeff Bridges). With the additional support of Ginger Ale (Halle Berry), Tequila (Channing Tatum), and Whiskey (Pedro Pascal), the Kingsman uncover and battle a global plot orchestrated by the drug cartel The Golden Circle, led by Poppy Adams (Julianne Moore).

Like its preceding film, Kingsman: The Secret Service (Matthew Vaughn, 2014), The Golden Circle fully satisfies as a piece of genre cinema. Its ornately orchestrated action sequences are beautiful and jaw-dropping, as it accelerates the formal photographic strategy popularized by Jackie Chan, resulting in long takes that emphasize the impact of each kick and punch.

As a piece of deeply gendered cinema Circle at times seems vaguely interested in progression, but largely undermines and in some ways openly ridicules the idea of dismantling Hollywood’s patriarchal penchant. Easily visible with the killing/torturing of women to further the film’s plot, Circle’s gender politics see amplification in the characterization of Poppy Adams, a ruthlessly deranged female villain packaged literally as an artifact of the 1950s, relegated to doing her dirty work while sporting an apron and confined to her version of the domestic sphere. Perhaps interpretable as commentary on female representation in film, this notion sees quick burial in a sequence where Eggsy and Tequila compete to seduce Clara von Gluckfberg (Poppy Delevigne) for the purposes of embedding a tracking device inside her vagina. This deeply cringey moment reads less “so ridiculous it must be satiric commentary” and more “so ridiculous because it’s funny to watch men use women.”

Circle continues its unsettling ideological half-step shuffle with a broader set of political iconographies, jumping back and forth between endorsements of Fox News and depicting a distressingly white version of mass incarceration for drug-related charges to lampooning a far-right president and prominently featuring Elton John as fun comedic relief/token queerness.

Circle avoids concrete statements not because of a deceptive cleverness, but because its true ideology is profit. It wants money from as many regions of the country as possible, so it vacuums up imagery and ideas from disparate political sides and mashes them together in an unholy mess that hopes to the be the movie “everyone agrees on.” To this end, I can’t ascribe it a favorable rating, regardless of how giddy its lovely action scenes made me.

Originally published at The State News.

Can We All Just Agree That Computer Science Is The Worst Major At MSU?

Computer scientists. God. So smug. So hardworking.

So handsome.

Computer Science majors at MSU think they can have it all. Join a Big 10 and get the full college experience, and work your ass off to join the workforce in our economy’s most rapidly growing job sector. Click clack on your goddamn keyboards while your smooth faces and supple bodies are the wont of all.

Be that way. No one minds.

A day in the college life of an MSU computer scientist: Wake up on time (fuck off), eat something heart healthy like an avocado or seven toasted almonds (just like them to steal Obama’s eating habits), brush your hair in front of the mirror while lovingly gazing into your dazzlingly perfect eyes, make your way to the Engineering Building for Discrete Structures with McCullen (who you love, ugh), and risk carpal tunnel while mastering the cutting edge mathematics necessary to maintain and grow a teeming global electronic infrastructure (you shit flapjack) and at night live the rock and roll lifestyle you hide so well from your parents.

Sure, do a handstand at the Tin Can while you catch lobbed Jello-shots in your mouth. Go ahead, laugh it off, squirt quirky love messages in whipped cream in a way that responsibly expresses your affection without coming on too strong. Find a loving, tender relationship that takes things slow, and remain conscious to refrain from co-dependence despite your healthy infatuation. We get it. You’re perfect.

Computer Science majors have their lives so perfectly figured out, it’s like they’ve evolved beyond mere mortal experiences like “hangovers” or “sadness.” When Nietzsche wrote of super-beings, he must’ve been peering through a time machine into the Holmes Hall dorm of an MSU Comp Sci major, as they were waking up refreshed in the morning to repeat their time-honored tradition of making the smartest possible choice at every turn.

The only thing worse than a mathematically superior mind is a mathematically superior body. MSU’s Computer Science department is churning out fierce, sexy beasts more angularly perfect than da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, causing an outbreak of long, soulful walks along the Red Cedar, where one contemplates one’s place in the universe when mere feet away an attractive and emotionally evolved computer whiz is solving the world’s problems, getting laid, and has guaranteed employment right out of college.

Can “if, then” logic chains wipe away tears? Does knowledge of Python quell the snake-bite like pangs in an inferior being’s heart? Can Professor Wang’s out-of-nowhere political issues in clicker questions distract from the absurd inequity of it all?

No.

Two solutions lie before us: abolish MSU’s Computer Science Department, or allow Darwinism to take its course, and watch the whole of our luscious campus become subsumed with the superior genetic material of Comp Sci majors at the loss of our pride, and the gain of everything else. The choice is in our hands.

Published originally at The Black Sheep.

 

 

 

7 Life-Fulfilling Campus Activities You Can Enjoy While Your Annoying Group Chat is Muted

Group chatting is a wonderfully efficient way to stay connected with your college friends in the summertime. While some remain on campus and others return to their native lands, you can swap jokes, send GIFs, and be weirdly condescending all in the safety of your local neighborhood GroupMe. Yet regardless of how lovely your friends are, group chats are genetically predisposed to causing deep irritation. Resist the siren-call to have maintaining your presence on the chat be a full-time job, and pursue these seven personality-expanding activities in East Lansing while the mute-switch is flipped.

7.) Breathing Air:

Like all earthly places, MSU’s campus is abundant with oxygen. Inhale and exhale, appreciate our fluid atmosphere, and fuel necessary bodily functions while your college friends assign unconnected alter-egos to each other, like “Ke$ha song” or “style of gazpacho.”

6.) Showering:

The defining characteristic of many MSU students is their stench. Whether yours be rugged, robust, or repulsive, use this sweet social silence to lather up in the shower and really get in there between your toes. Wash away fears of your questionable friend’s alt-right memes along with the oil on your torso.

5.) Meet New Humans:

Take a walk down Grand River, why not? Greet some strangers in Los Tres Amigos or bump into some randos at Bruegger’s Bagels. Your mind is now clear to make new connections while your unfortunate college compadres swap GIFs of Patrick Swayze’s sweaty face.

4.) Contemplate Existence:

Take yourself seriously for once. You’ve earned it. Slowly stroll through the Broad Art Museum as you deeply consider your role in the cosmos. You know, that satellite sculpture suspended on wires perfectly encapsulates the insignificance of your friend Jerry’s pitiful digital pandering, in the hopes of meekly staying on hot Lisa’s good side.

3.) Ask Someone Out on a Date:

Oh, it’s just now hitting your group chat that Hollywood loves whitewashing pre-existing properties? Take a load off and be a little vulnerable as you reach out to a Schuler Books employee with a request for coffee. Your friends can work out whether Scarlett Johansson is a bad person by themselves while you’re busy making eye-contact and listening to a human face.

2.) Read a Book:

You know, it’s a real shame you never got around to finishing Pride and Prejudice. Dust off the British beast and hydrate your shriveled brain in the Botanical Garden while the dreaded “Potato Feud” emerges and dissipates on your chat, like waves in the ocean. How Austenian.

1.) Have Sex:

Arguably the best activity a human can engage in is the union of bodies in intercourse. Flashback to your Sex and Gender class in the Vet Med Center, and let your mind flood with pleasurable possibilities. You can be safe and avoid STIs while your group chat buds pile on the Angel hate in their Buffy the Vampire Slayer discourse.

Electronic conveniences be damned, sometimes a constantly vibrating phone isn’t the answer to a meaningful life. Dip your toe in the world of the Amish and discover that your friends won’t forget you in the interim months you aren’t continuously communicating. MSU is the perfect place to do literally anything other than staring at your phone hoping your joke gets seven hearts.

Published originally at The Black Sheep.

Local Rat Constructs Bar for Rats in Walls of the Tin Can, Calls it “Tiny Can”

Jealous of the inebriated fun witnessed through cracks in campus walls, a young enterprising rat has put it upon herself to spread human fun to her tinier, furrier species.

“Any given night, especially on the weekends, we’d see you guys stumbling around yelling about inane garbage, and a pit of furious jealousy would burn in my lil stomach,” says Natalie Portrat, owner and proprietor of the newly opened Tiny Can, a bar constructed for rats in the walls of the Tin Can. “It took my best investigative work to figure out the source of their behavior change. At first I thought it was tight, revealing clothes and loud music, but soon I gathered it was a liquid consumed copiously at regular weekly intervals.”

With gray hair and beady eyes, Portrat isn’t immediately striking as the entrepreneur type. But once she started regularly spying on a Micro-Economics class in the Vet Med center, she became hypnotized by the Invisible Hand, or as she likes to put it “the invisible little rat claw.” Paying attention to supply and demand, and cribbing as many design elements as possible from the human-sized equivalent bar, Portrat built a booming business from the ground up.

“This is great. I love this so much,” reports a disheveled little rascal clutching a bottle of Rat Daniel’s Whisky. “Before this place [rat equivalent of a hiccup] I had nowhere to go to bury all my repressed [rat hiccup] anxiety and sadness about my dismal job prospects. But now? Now? Now I can to go to Grat school to get my PrD in Human studies, and come here all I want.” The cute little harbinger of disease proceeded to adorably vomit all over the Tiny Can’s array of basement arcade games, including “Hillbilly Rat Hunter” and “Rodent Apocalypse.”

“Our most popular beverage? Probably the poison shots,” says Portrat, gesturing to a shelf lined with skull and crossbones-adorned containers. “We dilute rat poison in straight-up absinthe. You could be a capybara for all I care, if you drink this you will be seriously fucked.” When pressed on the health risks of such a beverage, Portrat’s face darkened. She started rubbing her weird little claw-fingers together. “Oh, do you hear that? Do you hear the sound of really the world’s tiniest violin? I’m raking in so much dough, I live in a muffin pan. Multiple rooms. If these rat-holes want to hurt themselves, so be it. I’m just happy to meet their demand.”

 

 

mother!

5/5

On my drive home from the cinema a large object fell on the roof of my car. An acorn, a rock, perhaps a squirrel, it made a sharp metallic clunk that transported me into the grotesque anxiety of mother!, into a high-stress world where humanity was focusing its violent ignorance on me, where my body was the focal point for life’s horrendous and darkly comedic ruinous forces, wrought in rapid waves and bent on swift service. I felt in that moment the film had lobbed the guilty object, that perhaps Darren Aronofsky himself had crouched in road side bushes, eagerly rubbing his hands in anticipation of his final brilliant assault on my mental health.

mother! is about an author (Javier Bardem) and his wife (Jennifer Lawrence) who both live in a house, and the providing of further plot details would be simultaneously a disservice to the reader and a task rendered impossible by the extremity of disturbing allegory the film indulges in, as it guzzles the Kool-Aid of expressionistic literalization to such a shocking degree it becomes comedic, an exercise in conveying a highly specific nightmare scenario as viscerally and ruthlessly as possible. I left the theatre in euphoria, and on the verge of vomiting.

mother!’s convoluted thematics allow for a multitude of interpretations, though its dominating interest is undoubtedly fundamentalist religion. Within that potent sphere it encounters tangential yet fertile interests in domesticity, marriage, celebrity worship, misogyny, and a particular type of anxiety that felt disturbingly personal to my own lived experience. Aronofsky addresses these interests in a fearlessly literal manner that generates a viscous static shock of genre confusion, conflating the best of comedy and horror into an inarticulably brilliant and frustrating witch’s brew.

Lawrence’s performance is an impossible task rendered possible, as her character shoulders the brunt of an endless series of horrors, heightened and explored to a degree I thought beyond the moral limits of cinematic representation. She moves through the dream-like pace of Aronofsky’s breathlessly quick narrative with the stride of a rational human, enacting beautifully the role of the “straight man” in a demented and limitless comedy. Her nightmare, the loss of domesticity, strikes a chord within my own nightmares, where the thoughtless violence of human hordes wipes away my individuality and scoffs at my futile attempts to differentiate. Lawrence’s exhaustingly brilliant performance sought the carriage of this nightmare into my body, in a persuasive manner that seemed to convince that though I’d never consciously manifested this nightmare, it had lain dormant in my mind and required exorcism.

Aronofsky’s brilliance in mother! blends the power of cinematic identification as elaborated by Alfred Hitchcock with the moral fearlessness of Michael Haneke and Lars von Trier, producing a film that holds itself close to the viewer while ravaging its protagonist. The result is excruciating, a film that goes there and further there and further still the impossible there. mother! accomplishes something rare, the treasured induction of a unique feeling. The totality of its formal brilliance and narrative ingenuity seizes on the spectator in a way impossible for life to recreate, in a manner far from pleasurable yet on some level transcendently pleasing, in a way that shaped in the form of Aronfsky’s middle finger declares triumphant I have made you feel something new!

Originally published at The State News.

IT Follows

4/5

IT is a carefully made, chilling horror film that features reliable scare gags, creative creature design, and excellent performances. Tonally flexible, the movie oscillates between 80s nostalgia, coming-of-age genre elements (both sweet and comedic), and terrifying imagery to generate a narrative that effectively communicates broad thematic messaging on childhood and the oppressive authority of parents.

The film stars Jaeden Lieberher, Jeremy Ray Taylor, Sophia Lillis, Finn Wolfhard, Wyatt Oleff, Chosen Jacobs, and Jack Dylan Grazer as a group of middle schoolers targeted by It, which presents frequently as Pennywise the Dancing Clown (Bill Skarsgård), a supernatural evil force that terrorizes and captures children. After the loss of Bill’s (Lieberher) younger brother Georgie (Jackson Rober Scott) to the nightmarish apparition, an investigation of his and others’ kidnapping’s leads the young team to discover the hellish machinations of It, and journey to defeat it.

Being a full-blown genre piece, the primary indicator of IT’s success is its scariness. The film relies on varied types of scares to send chills down spines, the primary ones employed being jump scares, (somewhat) prolonged tension, and body/creature horror. Though the movie’s ability to sustain tension beyond its signaled “scary scenes” is lackluster, its creative visual design and clever exploration of its villain’s supernatural abilities supplies ample fear throughout the movie’s runtime. IT’s presentation of scare gags resembles somewhat a musical with many quick numbers, supplied in a comfortable enough rhythm and counterbalanced with tonally opposed scenes and subplots to make the viewing experience less a grueling endeavor and more a fun freaky time.

The film’s strongest feature, which of course contributes to its genre appeal, is its performances. Its child ensemble is remarkably strong, with Lieberher, Taylor, and Lillis shining as believably troubled youths who undergo compelling character arcs. In coming-of-age films so much rests on the strength of its core youthful cast, and IT avoids the pitfalls of saccharine, obvious emotional plays or annoying, overwrought child acting. Skarsgård is excellent as Pennywise, making good use of his angular mouth and raspy vocals to portray a bizarrely funny and terrifying demon clown.

As the movie traverses tones from scene to scene, gory and horrifying in one moment, immediately heartfelt the next, sweetly funny the next, the result can be jarring. One moment in particular stands out, where a grotesque and horrifying scene in a bathroom is followed closely by a kind of hokey 80s-style montage in the same bathroom. The sharpness of the tonal jump broke my mesmerized stare at the cinema screen and elicited a chuckle. Though the necessity of tonal variety in a horror film of this length is apparent, the fearlessness of IT to plunge its audience immediately into opposing situations requires patience and flexibility.

Despite my history of avoiding horror films, IT represents such loving and careful work that I could not help but have fun. The grooviness of being spooked worked its magic on me, and I found myself curiously enjoying the sight of small children being terrified at the hands of a killer clown.

Published originally at The State News.