People think reading, fine arts, musi rev ews
are dumb as shit ...
According to DailyArts' sources ...
98% of U-M students hate reading the
arts section because of these reviews.
http://older-amauteurs-netwvork. com/fatgirls/fut-pics/f at42. jp
Creed finds Jesus
fuck thyself' says
Homeless man between NYPD
and GNC depressing, ineffective
By Uncle Diopolis music. I would rather hang out with
Daily ArtsUncle Judas than listen to "'With Arms
Wide Open,"' our Lord and Savior
"Jesus ass!" said Jesus as he lis- told the Daily last week.
tened to iiber-Christian suck-core's While Jesus himself has spent a
greatest living ode to His Holiness, great deal of time attempting to
the pseudo-Christian Stapp-mastur- save humanity from sin, He feels
bation known as Creed's latest sin- that Creed, as a band, is more deriv-
gle "My Sacrifice." "Really," said ative than Aerosmith singing
Jesus, "these guys are awful. I "Come Together."
mean, Pink has better lyrics and' a "Seriously," said the Prince of
child could Peace, "these guys suck donkey
accidental- - dick. Creed may call themselves a
ly write this band, but they are closer to an
- - >.:.w. iopen boil as far as I'm con-
While Creed did sell more
CDs than everyone save Shaggy,
Jesus met up with them sim-
ply to tell them to shut their
arrogant pie-holes. "While
Itthey claim that the rest of the
music world is catching up to
them," the Christ prognosticat-
ed I thinkbthat they sound
} like a dog being castrated.
r aHonestly, I think they should
go fuck themselves. Stapp
y < is worse than the Pharisees
or that stupid Sharon Stone
movie with the ice pick."
....When asked to comment
on Christ and his feelings
courtesy of Jeff DicIerson s bum toward the band, Creed
Jesus (back, right) hates Creed as much as we do. le ad singer S cott Stapp
Clearly not Jesus.
expressed dismay. "I figured that
Jesus would be cooler, and would
fully understand how profound our
music really is. He must be a fuck-
"I hung out with the band for a
while," Jesus said with a laugh,
"and they were real tools. I remem-
ber my days with the apostles, some
super-chill guys, and they used to
come up with better songs, com-
pletely drunk, then these lame-
brains come up with while
completely sober and thinking about
me and My Father."
While Creed has sold over 800
million CDs in their first week, crit-
ics were divided over the actual
"Seriously," said.Jesus, "It's worse
than genital warts. I think that their
CD is more evil than anything that
anyone has ever done in my name,
or even some of those boy bands."
Stapp still thinks that Jesus has
missed the boat. "He clearly doesn't
understand our exaltation of him,
and he is basically like all of those
other haters that don't understand
the positive message inherent in our
"That's fucking weak, dude,"
Jesus said when confronted with
Stapp's remarks. "That guy doesn't
get me at all."
By Dur D. Sanchez
Daily Homeless Editor
Often when you walk past a pan-
handler, you expect
NYPD and GNC
a certain deal of
expect the com-
mon lines, such
as "Spare some
food?" or "Got
you'll see a
pencil on card-
the hard times
man or woman
that led him or
her to this lowly
is bucking these
trends to disappointing results.
Instead of emanating the pity of
the ever-hungry "Red Faced Old
Lady Outside of Espresso Royale
Cafe," the head-shaking insanity of
"Guy at State and Huron Who Talks
to Himself and Holds Out His Hat at
People," or the intimidation factor of
"Fat Nightmare Santa With Shopping
Bag and Sweat Pants," the unfortu-
nate drifter who sits between NYPD
and GNC only gives off a sense of
indifference, and even contempt.
His panhandling line of choice is a'
slurred, esoteric cross between "Got
a dollar or somethin'?" and "Got a
dollar, suh?" No matter what he's
saying, a dollar is a lot to ask from
notoriously broke college students;
what, man, you don't want our
change? When you don't give up the
required dollar, the only response
you get is silence, never the soul
affirming "God bless you," or "have a
The hobo fails on numerous crite-
ria. When this reporter responded to
his pitch with "No, but I can buy you
a slice of pizza. Are you hungry?"
the slovenly gray-bearded wretch
ignored me. When I repeated my
offer, he said "Nah, mayn." I made
my way towards State Street, but then
turned around seconds later. When I
passed him again, he asked me again
for dollar, seemingly not noticing, or
not caring, that I had just been there,
that he had just asked me for a dollar
or something. No matter if he didn't
hear or didn't care, it represented an
unconscionable lack of attention to
In the panhandling major leagues,
"Homeless Man Between NYPD and
GNC" is strictly bush league. Unless
he ea s up his act, and fast, he will
no find himself rotting in the
same spot for another four years.
state. But one man
Celebrity losers drink in 'PISS'
By Fogelj and Hot Robyn
Drunken Daily Arts Memories
It's not that big but do
what you will.
Let them fuckin' procreate
for all I care! - Lyle
Thousands and thousands
of lines of code.
- Paul Wong
I'll eat anything. - Lyle
That's what your mom
said! - Ben
I've got a picture of Nick's
ass! - Robyn
Where's Robyn? - Lyle
I left her in the bathroom.
How do I get into law
school with brain damage?
I'm not drunk! - Fogel)
Uhh... yeahhhh. - Gagnon
GARY, Ind - Trapped in a farmhouse for the last two
months, these survivors have not only survived each
other, but the radioactive waste left outside their
doorstep every morning. On the last episode of
"Panic in StarSuck" we were witness to the unbeliev-
able mayhem of O.J. running around with his
pointy vibrator trying to poke Sinead O'Connor.
Fortunately for Sinead, the producers kicked
O.J. off the show even though he claimed, "I
was just playing around." Producers were not
convinced after they found a massive arsenal of
Twinkies in his footlocker and a closet devoted
to "Nothing Compares 2 U."
O.J. now joins the ranks of the other clueless ..
stars booted off the show. In a quick recap of
"PISS," the first night of claiming she was real,
J. Lo was out. This was a risky move on the part
of the producers because after she insured her
extra wide load, they weren't sure what kind of
law suit they could be in for. After a midnight
wake-up call by the coppers, the "PISS" house
said good-bye to one Todd Bridges whom
they didn't remember from his '80s sitcom
hit "Different Strokes." "He never did seem courtesy of
very clean," said housemate Robert Rajt's ass
Downey Jr. After the bridge fell down, the Pat
housemates decided that they had enough Benatar
of Travolta's Scientology spiel and pro-
ceeded to knock him out, take back the lost dough they
had spent on "Battlefield Earth" and kicked that asshole
Rock bitch Courtney Love has been leading the
troops. No one really liked Hole to begin with, but ever
since Kurt died, it's been back in style. (Editor's note:
Hole really blows, but they let her on out of guilt. I
mean, she drove that poor man to suicide with that
fuckin' horrible, yet so telling tune, "Teenage Whore.")
Love enjoys taking her crew to view the smokestacks
and take in all of the carcinogens that she now lacks
since the house has been deemed "non-smoking."
After a debilitating challenge, which left Tracy Gold
thoroughly hungry, (we didn't realize that cow-tip-
ping was so hard!) Rod Stewart and Pat Benatar
had a duel to the death. "Broken Arrow" couldn't
muster enough steam for "Love is a Battlefield"
and Stewart went back to the house by way of the
After skipping yet another engrossing chal-
lenge, Britney and beau J. Timberlake were found
back at the house engaged in an activity that
viewers at home were unable to witness due to
FCC regulations. Needless to say, rumors that
the duo plan to remain virginal before their Hal-
loween wedding are completely bunk. Mean-
while, the rest of the house is enjoying the in
house surveillance system where Britney and J are
better than the gay porn that's flown in every week.
(Editor's note: One of our cameramen clearly heard
J telling Rod, "She fucks my brains out.")
Regular PISSers will note that this week's episode
- which was to feature a very naked SineaO praying
to God and Pat "Invincible" Benatar kicking the shit
out of Rod "big pussy" Stewart - has been postponed
due to Ms. Spears monthly appointment to take care of
any little problems. (Editor's note: Due to the complete
censorship or our sponsors, we cannot condone the use
of the morning after pill.)
2001: A Shit Odyssey: Weekend Editor drops 742
ONE DARKAND STORMY NIGHT, A STRANGER APPEARED...
An old-fashioned mystery sure to puzzle the
best of sleuths by America's Greatest Showman!
GEORGE M. COHAN
Author of such favorite songs as "Give My Regards To Broadway,"
"Over There," and "You're a Grand Old Flag"
Feb.7-9at8PM - Feb. l0at2PM
Lydia Mendelssohn Theatre,
Directed by Philip Kerr
Lea ue Ticket Office
CALL NOW! 734.764.2538 . .
By Matt Grandstaff
Weakass, Etc. Editor
In 2001, I embarked on a mission so
dirty and so smelly. After drinking the
night away on New Year's 2001, I
decided to make a resolution like no
other. I would count every shit I fook in
2001. My first shit was at 9:09 p.m. It
was dark and green.
I had 741 more in 2001, yet no other
shits were green. I guess every shit
from then on could only be green with
envy. But there were special shits. On
Jan. 9, I dropped the "wall banger." The
wall banger was a fierce 11 inch shit
that attached to each side of the bowl
like a chin up bar.
On June 10, I had the Isiah Shit (in
honor of my dead cat, Isiah, who would
1 5N REK
1 amaica, *iA~f*~N~ aaa f .are f I
have turned eleven that day). After
dropping a shit at the home of my cat, I
sprinkled cat hair of my cat into thetoi-
let in his memory.
During the first round of the NCAA
Tournament, I decided it was necessary
to shit in a cup. I left it under News
Editor Dave Ender's bed ... yet he
I could talk about particular shits all
day, but instead I will now explain how
difficult it is to count your shits. If you
are at home, sure you just take the shit,
go to your computer and log into a
Microsoft Excel file. But what if you
are not home? Then you must make
Sammy Jankis notes all over your body.
During a trip to New Jersey with Edi-
tor-in-Chief-to-be, Jon Schwartz (make
'em say ugh), I had to leave pen marks
on my wrist to remember my count.
During a trip to my hometown Gaylord,
MI, I had to repeat in my head how
many shits I had over and over the way
Jerry Seinfeld remembered the law firm
a potential girlfriend worked at.
When I was climbing through the
hills of Guksak, Ireland, I fished for
clams, ate the big sandwich and played
Super Mario Bros. 2 untilVBirdo said to
stop. At that point I shit on all those
who felt that coffee shops eat the burri-
to shelling enough cash for no (one).
On that subject, Crayola Crayon Man
said to me, "The crayon sharpener in
the 64 pack is for sharpening crayons,
not storing feces!"
I killed Crayola Man and played with
his waxy remains.
Finally, on Dec. 31, 2001, I excused
myself from the living room of my par-
ents home and forced out my final shit
(No. 742). It was tiny and small, but it
was a shit ... so I gave it a salute and
cried over the toilet bowl.
One month later ...
I now have no clue how many shits I
have taken in 2002, however, I do look
forward to important shits of 2002. On
May 16, I plan to have two identical
shits in honor of "Star Wars Episode II:
Attack of the Clones." When "The Two
Towers" is released next Dec., I plan on
dropping two towers of my own in my
pants. On my 23rd birthday, I plan to
dedicate my shit to No. 23 himself,
Michael Jordan, as his 40-year-old ass
will surely be playing like shit.
F UM School of Music
pt. of Theatre &Drama
Ivttnsip Fai r
Tti"daqj 5 raa 5, 2002
llama-3prn "Michigan Union
KLole off joIurJob .search " Pass ow ol e-m
Gow-&ect with 20+ oraK Zati4W~S
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