Category: Humor

By Jack Wiles

Columnist

Last weekend was epic. It was House Party Weekend and I am happy to say that it was the best one I’ve been a part of in my four years at this institution of higher learning. This is because of Super Saturdays, and in this special case, Super Fridays. It took me four years, but finally I think I have discovered the secret to fully enjoying these days of backyard drinking: elevated surfaces.

There is no better way to show off your obviously annoyingly fratty attire and croakies than standing at a higher elevation than everyone. A table, a hay bale, an elevated porch or even your buddy’s shoulders, it doesn’t matter. You must be above everyone else or you are not having the best possible time. It also helps to point to everyone you see while singing along to the song currently playing in order to draw more attention to yourself. Next, a catch-phrase is essential. This phrase must be repeated over and over again and spoken at a very high volume. A few I heard this weekend were “let’s go,” “let’s get tropical,” “killin’ it,” “done,” “somebody’s got to do it” and my personal favorite, “tits out for the boys.” Beware, though, this phrase has a zero percent success rate and is almost guaranteed to affect women.

Another thing that helps the situation while on this elevated surface is adjusting your drinking vessel to something unusually large. It doesn’t matter if you are actually drinking this amount of alcohol or not, but it is important to look like you are. My standard choice is a bottle of champagne. What is excellent about this apparatus is that it’s also a workout in disguise. Lifting that bad boy from your waist to your mouth to the air in celebration of your last sip really tones the biceps. However, nobody wants muscle imbalance, so you have to switch hands quite often. The best option, though, is to have two of them. Scientists and researchers across the world have called this action “double fisting.” Not only does this make you look cooler than everyone, but it also motivates others to go harder, which will have the end result of some funny stories to tell your kids one day.

Lastly, while doing all of these things is extremely fun, awesome and the perfect way to go about a Saturday, don’t live in the house that hosts these types of parties. That is, unless you are actually an animal of the pig variety, because your home will become a pig sty. My house is called “The Shithole.” Try tellin’ that one to your kids.

Jack Wiles

Columnist

Spring break! I’m super pumped for it, as are many of us on campus. Ever since people made plans, I’ve noticed quite a few humorous things going on and being talked about. I want to focus on one: lookin’ good for the ladies.

I will be heading to Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic, probably as you are reading this. I’ve known about it since last semester and ever since then I kept telling myself I was going to lose a few pounds before the trip. You see, I’ve got this thing a few of my friends call “skinny fatness.” If you’ve read my previous article about B-League basketball, it is blatantly obvious that I never go to the gym, or even try to exercise. Considering the infrequency of my workouts, the amount of beer I drink and the foods I enjoy, there’s no way I’ll ever rock a six-pack. If we’re going to continue to describe our stomachs as ways that alcohol is packaged, mine is not a keg, for I am certainly not round. I’d say it is more like a Franzia wine bag. The only difference is that if you slap it, wine doesn’t come out. I hope.

Regardless of my physique, about a month ago, I started eating less, eating healthier, and maybe doing some form of exercise about twice a week. These are huge life changes for me. After maybe three weeks, things were going well, I felt my belt start to loosen, and the wine bag was slowly draining. After seeing some results, I slacked off a little bit, but for the next two weeks I probably maintained a slightly better appearance. I was content with the little progress I made because it was progress. Celebrate the small victories in life and you will always be happy.

As I write this, there is only one week to go. There’s no way I can reverse this now. I can probably do what I normally do and not gain back anything in a week, right? I was incorrect, my friends. Taco Bell started to taste great, I’m eating a brownie right now, and there’s gravy smothered chicken awaiting me directly to my left. The wine bag is back. But hey, I don’t care; at least I’m not tanning and waxing my chest like some of my friends. So I’ll rock my wine bag in Punta Cana, and I’ll have a great time doing it. Ladies beware, the wine bag is comin’, and it’s going to be hard to resist.

By Jack Wiles

Columnist

Society as a whole is rapidly deteriorating. I can see it on the television screens, online, in the eyes of our youth, and on college campuses. I will provide an example of each.

First, we have television. When I was young, “TV-MA” didn’t even exist. Once it did, any show rated inappropriately only came on air after 11 p.m. As I write this, it is 8:30 p.m. and “South Park” is on Comedy Central. Currently, Cartman is attempting to crap out of his mouth. Oh, there he goes, he did it. I’m not a father yet, but one day I hope to be, and that is not something I would want my 5-year-old to see because he was flipping through channels. Next thing you know little Johnny will be trying to show off to his buddies by crapping out of his mouth. Great job, society.

The problem with the World Wide Interwebs these days is that there are scams and nudity everywhere. The Internet provides us with “scamudity”: scams and nudity. Pretty much every 12- or 13-year-old these days has a Facebook account. There are ads on the side of Facebook that feature some type of scandalous woman inviting users to “meet hot singles today.” Now, I’d like to think that my 12-year-old son would like to meet hot singles at some point in his future, but he should wait a while and not do it online, where he may meet some creepy 40-year-old man. Great job, society.

Our youth: the key to our future, the gateway to a civilized society. Have you seen these little punks lately? They roam the streets destroying things and respecting no one, as if the world were a post-apocalyptic garbage land, like Mad Max, beyond the thunder-dome or not. They went from boxing each other to UFC fighting, from soapbox derby racing to full speed chicken races in stolen cars. Next step: fights to the death. Great job, society.

And finally, the most serious one: college campuses. The kids in college today are animals. Even at higher institutions of learning like the University, there are “young adults” drinking too much, abusing drugs left and right, fornicating everywhere and burning things to the ground. They are being unsafe; turning what they think is a social life into a spiral staircase that leads to their demise. We have to take a stand and stop this life that college students lead. Disallow all parties, raid the entire campus and eradicate Greek Life forever. Great job, society.

By Jack Wiles

Columnist

Lately there’s been a great deal of  anger around this campus, and admittedly I myself have contributed. To counteract this ornery, negative vibe that recently has been seeping from the walls, I have begun to think about the things that I love. So, for this week, here is another list: The I Love List.

1. I love rodents. I don’t care what anyone says, the Rodentia order of mammals are the cutest animals ever. They are also extremely unintelligent, which makes them easy to manipulate. If you put one in a cage, watching it run a wheel makes anybody’s day.

2. I love processed foods. Why would you want a natural cut of steak when you can eat meat from a gun or a can? Processed foods never go bad, have additional seasonings and come in shapes we’ve all learned about in geometry class. Plus, who hates hot dogs?

3. I love Bernie Mac. R.I.P, bra’.

4. I love warm leather. I no longer have leather seats in my vehicle, but when I did and it was sunny out, I couldn’t wait to sit on a hot, sun-covered seat. It’s kind of like getting a hug from somebody who is for some reason much warmer than your ordinary individual.

5. I love “The Color Purple.” Danny Glover and Whoopi Goldberg work very well together, actually. I’ve never read the book, but I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing the Broadway version as well. The actual color isn’t bad either, the royalty used to wear it proudly.

6. I love cheap Mexican beer. Dos Equis, Modelo? Nah, son. I want some Sol or Corona Light. That’s what real men drink, and they drink it outside. Roofs are for wimps.

7. I love sitting with legs crossed. When I say this, I mean with my right foot on my left knee, keeping legs fairly open. I feel poised, confident and relaxed all at the same time. Add arms behind the head and you’re all gravy, baby.

8. I love rice. Pop a little bit of soy on top of these lovely grains and you’ve got yourself a great meal. I also am a big fan of beans, and they serve as an excellent accompaniment. Rice is gluten-free as well.

9. I love lamp. (I totally stole that from a movie.)

10. I love America. USA: the land of freedom, of justice, of hope. Golden plains make up its abdomen and scenic coastlines grace its extremities. Canada is our hat and Mexico our beard. We’ll put a boot in your ass, and kick it at the same time. Uhmurrica.

I’m in a good mood now.

Jack Wiles

Columnist

The typical “Bucknell girl” has multiple personality disorder. For those of you without a PhD in psychology, this is a serious concern. It has taken me four long and arduous years to gain anything remotely close to an understanding of this creature, and this is what I have compiled.

Personality 1: The in-class “Bucknell girl”: Here, she is attentive, constantly scribbling down notes and sitting with good posture. Never will she disagree with her professor, and if she disagrees with him, it is because the teacher is encouraging disagreement, so she’s still technically agreeing with him. If the “Bucknell girl” went out, had a boy over or was too busy having a passive-aggressive pillow talk with her roommate the night before, she is wearing a baseball cap. Oh, and leggings, a sweatshirt and UGGs. (Typically black, gray and brown, respecively). She conveys to her peers that she truly cares about the world, politics, her classes, etc. She is responsible and would rarely do anything wrong.

Personality 2: The “Bucknell girl” after dark. Here, she is dressed up. Whether it is in the theme of the night, or a “dress,” she is scantily clad, leaving little to the imagination, trying to look hotter than all of the other girls that are out that night. Just like the in-class “Bucknell girl,” the nighttime girl often incorporates a table into her routine. While the in-class girl is studying on it, the night time girl is dancing on top of it, double-fisting mixed drinks. She is hammered. Nighttime girl has no problem cursing loudly, dancing suggestively or being completely inhibition-free. She also may head back to a male’s bedroom … but I’ll leave that for Stacey Lace to cover in “Sleeping Around.”

There’s a reason girls get better grades–-they have figured out how to beat the system. They can be complete idiots at night and have fun just like guys while Personality 1 does their homework for them. It’s like they have a clone that does school for them. The “Bucknell guy” is not good at hiding that he is hungover or doesn’t care about the class while in class. ­He often stupidly disagrees with the professor and loudly talks about what he doesn’t like about the professor while standing right next to him. Generally, the “Bucknell guy” is honest, brutally honest in fact, so much so that he can come off as a dick. But he’s not a dick. He also does not have multiple personality disorder, but maybe he should. “Bucknell girls,” you’ve figured it out; you know how to win here. Have some pity on us guys, we’re just simple people trying to make it out here on these hard, hard streets.

By Jack Wiles

Columnist

The last two weeks of writing this column I have exaggerated things in an attempt to induce laughter from your gullible little bodies. This week, shit gets real. From this pathetic and embarrassing story, I hope that you readers leave feeling sorry for me and go do something to change your lives for the better. It’s motivation time, son.

I was never a great athlete–-I’ll be the first to admit it–-but I could be decent at times and I played some sports in high school. Basketball was one that I dabbled in. When a group of my friends made a B-League intramural basketball team, I hopped on board very quickly. It’ll be fun! Some good exercise with my friends! Hoo-rah! Wiles, you sir, are incorrect. Little did I realize that B-League basketball was actually like training to become a Navy Seal … in Death Valley … with a large three-toed sloth affixed to my back.

Layup lines were easy. I even made a few jumpers in warm-ups, so I got on the court with more confidence than Tony Stark. After about three trips up and down the court (that’s six if you count in one-way trips), I was huffin’ and puffin’ like I just gave birth. When I looked up too quickly, everything got blurry and I felt like I was going to faint. Let me pause and remind you that we’re playing uncompetitive B-League basketball. I’m the first sub out and I can’t even stand on the sidelines. I have to wait until the second half to go back in. I played maybe a third of the entire game and I felt worse than Lance Armstrong felt when he had one of his balls removed.

I got back to my house, started coughing a lot and vomited. Projectile, disgusting, I’m sorry you have to read this part, barf … from 14 minutes of B-League intramural basketball. I never do any exercise, never work out, eat unhealthily, etc. Readers, let me tell you, this will change. This must change. I’m hopping back on the court right after I finish writing this column. I’m changing my diet; hell, maybe I’ll go on a little jog every once and a while. Baby steps are crucial. I hope you do the same. Be healthy and take care of your bodies, because let me tell you … puking after a B-League basketball game is straight up embarrassing.

By Jack Wiles

Columnist

People these days, including myself, generally suck at reading. Our attention span as a society seems to be getting worse than that of a rat. So, for this week, I give you a list. This is the “Bucknell Bucket List”; essentially, this is me telling all four members of my readership what they should do before they leave Lewisburg. Take it as seriously as you want, but keep in mind, you probably shouldn’t.

1. Get naked.College is the one time where going streaking, skinny dipping or surprising a friend with your unfurled glory as they walk into a room is completely acceptable. It’s also hilarious for both males and females.

2. Rock a tank top. Most of us don’t look good in tank tops, especially me. My shoulders are so narrow that I would definitely be mistaken for a female if I had longer hair. (I already have been!) But, who cares? Let your guns out and look like you party because the real world will not allow you to look like a dunce.

3. Take a philosophy class. Ever seen “Animal House”? This should be enough explanation. Inside of our fingernail, there are a million different galaxies, man…

4. Put salt on a slug. I did this much earlier than college, but hey, you’ve got to do it some time and you definitely will not want to do it in front of your boss. Shrivel that slug! Maybe even make it cooler and prepare a sacrificial pyramid, Mayan style.

5. Go to wing night. This one is serious.< Lewisburg Hotel’s wings are the shit.

6. Spend a weekend sober. Guys, this is a comedy column. This form of comedy is called sarcasm.

7. Have a political argument. You don’t have to know anything about what you’re talking about, but make yourself feel smart. Pretend like you care. As in my case, Ron Paul 2012!

8. Go to a neighboring Central Pennsylvania town. This experience to me, as I feel it would be for most people reading this, was astonishing. People say the University isn’t diverse? This is absolute crap. At least we experiment with different gene pools.

9. Take a shower in the Bison. A friend of mine did this and loved it. Make sure you walk there in only a robe, or see number one on this list.

10. Leave a floater in a public bathroom. If you don’t know what this means, I’m just not going to explain it.

If you think I left anything out or have any ideas for next week, tweet me about it @Improvize.

Jack Wiles

Columnist

And so it begins. I have the life of a second semester senior and those idiots with The Bucknellian decided to give me a column. The only people that may read this are our lovely Dining Services staff. They care about me–I’m always offered pickles. Who else would care about what I have to say? For those who do happen to read this, I’ll start with a few things to set the stage about me, being quite blunt: I don’t understand many things about society, my mind is silly at best and I still, and will always, find poop jokes funny. Now, with introductions aside, let us examine a day in the life of a second semester senior.

I wake up, super dehydrated, wearing the same clothes I had on from last night with a smiley face drawn with mud on my shirt. I look at the clock: 12:04 p.m. Damn, I missed lunch. No worries, I’ll either eat a double dinner or go to Taco Bell where I can stuff my face for $3.21 (with tax, of course). Next, I take a lengthy amount of time in the bathroom as I’m moving quite sluggishly. When I’m on the john, I notice that I spent far too much money at the bar last night. I was there? Who was I even with? Oh well, that’s beyond the point. It was obviously fun. After consuming copious amounts of Taco Bell, it is time for me to attend class. Wait, who am I kiddin’? I under-loaded this semester, so there’s no chance I have class on Thursday! “Silly Wiles …” I say aloud to myself.

The next few hours vary individually, depending on personal traits and interests. This is typically the time where I’ll watch a Mitch Hedberg stand-up special, go thrifting, shoot bottle rockets at a squirrel or think about the possibility that giant squids will one day take over the world. Dinner happened at some point in all of that. Other people may do school work or go to the gym, but I figure that I can do the first option some other time.

The next thing I remember goes something like this: I wake up, super dehydrated, but this time I’m naked with a few “veiny triumphant bastards” etched all over my face. I look at the clock, 2:31 p.m. Damn, I missed lunch, and all of my classes, and an exam. I will never drink. Never … ever … again.