Update: The band has provided a video showcasing assorted jokes and songs from last night. Relive the action below.
Last night, Butler 209 played host to Orgo Night, one of Columbia’s time-honored traditions and the reason many upperclassmen choose to move off campus. Bwog will have a full review later today, but for now, check out some pictures of the festivities and peruse the script.
Pics courtesy of Roko Rumora, Dylan Lonergan, Raphaelle Debenedetti, and Peter Sterne
The Full Fall 2011 Orgo Night Script:
Tyler: Ladies and gentlemen, and organic chemistry students, back despite mugging people on 114th street, it’s the boxcutting-est band in the world, the Columbia University Marching give me your iPhone motherfucker!
J. Stephenie Meyer: Breaking Dawn
J. European Union: breaking down, and
J. Justin Bieber: breaking hymens.
Tyler: Welcomes itself back to spirited, saccharine, strangely antiseptic, sedulous, sententious, sesquipedalian, semicircular, semi-centennial, solipsistic, recently fumigated, (yet still in need of fumigation!) College Library, where the shelves are long-lasting, but sadly not the men, and the women are checked out but long overdue. As well as human trafficking on Columbia’s campus going up, Public Affairs students…going down, and your professor’s heavy breathing at an all-time still not sexy, the Band now presents its 54th consecutive, 69th semi-annual drive to lower the curve in Organic Chemistry while consummating the world’s largest simultaneous Orgo! And so, in the interest of everyone’s enjoyment:
SEAS students, please turn off your electronic devices.
Bree: GS students, please turn up your hearing aids.
Tyler: CC kids, please set your phones to vibrate;
Bree: and Barnard girls, please set your vibrators to phone. Let’s start the show!
Tyler: Now, a lot of people have complained that we don’t use microphones at Orgo Night. And you know what? They’re right. So we’ve decided to bring special amplification to you RIGHT NOW. Let’s give it a try. Mic check! (Mic check!) Mic check! (Mic check!) Is this thing on? (Is this thing on?) We’re really poor! (We’re really poor!) You’re really rich! (You’re really rich!) Fuck you guys! (Fuck you guys!) Penis! (Penis!)
OK, enough of that shit. (OK, enough of that shit.) That’s really fucking annoying. (That’s really fucking annoying.) Seriously! (Seriously!) Stop! (Stop!) I have a tiny dick! (silence)
The news coverage of Occupy Wall Street has dwindled so much in recent weeks that it seems like those grizzled urban lumberjacks have packed up and headed home, leaving behind nothing but vintage skinny jeans, crumpled cans of PBR, and ironically placed copies of the new Real Estate album.
Which is too bad…the Band really sympathized with the Occupy Wall Streeters on several issues. We too are frustrated with our nation’s leaders. We too have been evicted from certain public arenas for just expressing ourselves. We too hate the 1%, skimming the cream off the top and milking the system. And if you think that last one is just a lead-in to a bad dairy joke…you’re right. What do Occupy Wall Street and eggs have in common? They both get beaten and peppered!
Police skullfucking aside, Columbia has really taken to the Occupy movement, which is not surprising, since Occupy Wall Street is about as poorly thought-out as Frontiers of Science. Inspired by the actions of the 99%, some CU students have started their own Occupy Columbia movement, fighting for their ideals with one of history’s most effective protest strategies: drum circles. Because we all know how well that worked out for the Native Americans. We in the Band are much more sympathetic to the Occupy Barnard movement, which has taken up such fine causes as OccupyTheKitchen, OccupyMyBedroom, and OccupyMakeMeASandwich, Bitch.
In honor of fighting for worthy causes, the Band now forms a pastrami on rye and a blowjob and plays “More Than a Kneeling.”
[More Than a Feeling]
Bree: In case you hadn’t noticed, this country’s due for another one of those election doodads, and we all know what that means: educated discourse about the state of the nation. Ha! We have fun. No, don’t worry, America, this election will be just as the Founding Fathers intended–a knock-down, drag-out, balls-to-the-wall affair full of terrorist fist jabs, Photoshopped pictures of Adolf Obama, and more steamy scandals than you can shake James Madison’s tiny dick at.
Speaking of dicks, Herman Cain still hasn’t acknowledged that maybe whipping out his shlong wasn’t the best form of employee appreciation! He suspended his campaign after being buried under a pile of sexual harassment allegations, which is nowhere near as exciting as it sounds. We have no idea what Cain did to these ladies accusing him…we can only assume that the former Godfather’s CEO was knocking on their doors asking if they wanted to try his “big sausage pizza.” Still, we understand why voters are upset with Cain: in the GOP, you can be a hypocrite, a sex fiend, and sometimes even black, but not all three at the same time.
That’s why Republican voters have thrown their support behind Newt Gingrich, who cheated on his cancer-stricken wife and said she wasn’t, quote, “young or pretty enough to be the wife of a President.” Apparently she was pretty enough to be the wife of a man named Newt–an oversized garden gnome whose face resembles the offspring of Susan Boyle and a half-melted candle. Mr. Gingrich is of course known for being the “intellectual” candidate, which in the Republican Party means he can go poopy in the big boy potty. This runs the risk of alienating members of the smart-o-phobic Republican base–polls have shown that far-right voters prefer a candidate who’s just one of the guys…they can get a beer together, talk about the local sports teams, and eventually have plausibly deniable gay sex on a heap of Bibles.
In honor of the American electoral process, the Band now forms two Republican senators at a glory hole and plays Grand Old Party Rock Anthem.
[Party Rock Anthem]
Tyler: Recently it seems that America is in the midst of a MANcession. Yep, those women, with their fancy “bachelor’s degrees,” “master’s degrees,” “PhDs” and IUDs managed to steal jobs from hardworking men like this guy right here. It looks like the feminist crusade has finally made sexism obsolete. Radical C.U.N.T.S, eat your hearts out. Then eat each other out. Then eat your hearts out again.
But men shouldn’t be taking their stay-at-home-dad roles lying down! In these changing times, those afflicted with external genitalia and a pesky Y chromosome will be forced to learn new skills, like how to change a diaper or suppress their gag reflex. Of course, there’s only one place that can teach such expertise: Barnard College. Incoming Barnard men will quickly be enrolled in classes such as Why Foreplay Matters, She’s Always Faking It, and Maybe You Should Just Cuddle. Bill Clinton, recently domesticated by his husband Hillary, will give a guest lecture at Conbrocation entitled, “My Balls: Learning to Live Without”. A special all-guys theatre troupe will stage the first male rendition of “The Vagina Monologues”. “My vagina is an outie, long and thick. My vagina is a source of life, a petrified sequoia in a mysterious cave. And sometimes when I rub it, it lactates.” When those brave Barnard men head out into the world to become part-time elementary school substitutes and secretaries, they’ll always be able to look back on their emasculating days at Alma Pater. So move over, Barnard women. Some new classmates will soon be entering your Vag.
In honor of getting in touch with your feminine side, the Band now forms an extra-large pair of jeggings and plays Last Friday Night.
[Last Friday Night]
Bree: It’s been a rough year to be a Columbia administrator. First, Provost Claude M. Steele packed up his porn name and headed for the bright lights of California, and then Michele Moody-Adams journeyed to the center of earth to stabilize the Core and was never heard from again. The latest campus figure to find himself in hot water is SEAS Dean Feniosky Pena-Mora, who was told in no uncertain terms by engineering professors that he doesn’t “fit in with the culture of Columbia.” The implication being, of course, that he would TOTALLY fit in with the culture of ColOMbia.
Some at the University criticized the overtly racial angle taken by the New York Times in its coverage of the scandal. However, the faculty letter published in various media outlets isn’t actually the one that crossed President Bollinger’s desk. Newspapers drastically edited the epistle so as not to offend delicate sensibilities, but luckily the Band has a copy of the REAL letter, uncut and uncensored.
“Dear Provost Coatsworth,
We are writing to inform you of a massive communication barrier between the engineering faculty and Dean Pena-Mora. Basically, he has a weird fucking accent and we can’t understand a word he says. How can you expect him to turn out good engineers when he can’t even pronounce “en-hin-eer?” We’re all outsies if you don’t take him back to Home Depot right the fuck now.
A bunch of old white PhDs.”
It’s clear to us that to create a good dialogue, the SEAS faculty just needs a little language instruction. That’s why the Dean is collaborating with PBS to bring you a new educational program: “Pena-Mora the Explorer!” He’ll teach SEAS profesoras the basics of Spanish while trying to avoid his own terminacion! Can you kids say “terminacion?” (delay) Muy bien! But he’ll have to watch out for sly fox Vice Dean Goldfarb, who managed to swipe all his professional responsibilities. Hopefully Pena-Mora the Explorer develops enough “communication skills” to finally call the engineering faculty what they are—fucking racists ;-).
In honor of navigating stormy SEAS, the band now forms the beleaguered Dean and plays Carry On, Wayward Dominican.
[Carry On, Wayward Son]
Tyler: This semester, a lot of people were quick to call Columbia’s football program an embarrassment, which seems a little harsh. The Lions aren’t an embarrassment…they’re just not very good. Penn State’s football program…now there’s an embarrassment. Some pretty titillating reports have come out of Happy Valley in the last month. Apparently Plato Sandusky was holding nightly Symposia with JoePa-crates, doling out “wisdom” to little boys they’d showered in love, and loved in showers. In the purest of pure relationships, the boys swooned in the coaches’ wrinkly laps and professed their love either on a grassy field or one completely shaven.
After the Penn State student body was told why their beloved icon had been fired, by someone who could read, Sandusky appeared on television to refute the allegations against him. The former coach dismissed his shower room antics as simple “horseplay,” because that’s how horses get their kicks, by fucking children in the ass. “It was just good clean fun,” Sandusky said. “After all, boys will be boys…sweet, soft, succulent little boys.”
Another unfortunate side effect of the scandal is the flood of job-seeking University of Pennsylvania students who have to once again explain “No, I don’t go to THAT Penn!” And they have good reason to be upset. UPenn works hard to provide a safe environment for kids. In fact, it’s the safetiest school around.
In honor of state schools, the Band now forms a superiority complex and plays “Build Me Up, Buttercup!”
Bree: Marching bands, historically famous only for their enduring virginities, have never been the subjects of much media attention. That all changed just one month ago, when Columbia made national headlines for something other than inviting an evil dictator to campus. We were shocked to read that SOME punk-ass marching band, full of vim, vigor and bullshit, had the audacity, nay, the nerve, nay, THE BALLS to inform the football team of what it had been doing all season long: losing. And even worse, we did it with a lighthearted parody of our fight song, which was apparently the worst thing to happen to Columbia since Aaron Burr. When the coaching staff complained to the Athletics Department, the CUMB found itself suspended, and journalists across the country jizzed their collective pants at the opportunity to use the phrase “Band Banned.”
Of course, we immediately apologized, admitting that we’d totally crossed the line. Buuuutt… maybe if the team had crossed the line more often during the season, the Band wouldn’t have been singing those songs in the first place. Given all the serious injuries one can sustain playing football, we didn’t think hurt feelings would be one of them.
In the wake of the CUMB-gate scandal, many angry blog commenters had their say. They asked snarkily, “Why not have the band put on helmets and pads and see how well they do on the field?” A legitimate point. The marching band cannot play football. Instead of nine consecutive losses, we would have racked up…ten consecutive losses.
Lions Head Coach Norries Wilson was dismissed just over 12 hours after winning the final game of the season, reportedly fumbling his pink slip on the way out the door. Norries was replaced by NFL coach Pete Mangurian, who proudly declared at his introductory press conference that he wasn’t afraid to use the “W” word—Win. Of course, Norries wasn’t afraid to use the “W” word either… “WAAAHHH!”
In honor of newfound tabloid stardom, the band now forms the New York media machine and plays All Of The Lights.
[All of the Lights]
Bree: Well, that’s all for us tonight, folks. But before we go, we’d like to leave you with a few study hints for that big Orgo exam tomorrow:
Tyler: Backside displacement is characteristic of an SN2 reaction, whereas two people doing S&M often displace their backsides.
Bree: When a molecule loses an electron, it becomes electrically charged. When our drum major loses her clothes, the Band becomes sexually charged.
Tyler: Neutral organic compounds tend to be hydrophobic, meaning they are less soluble in water than in organic solvents. Right-wing organic compounds tend to be homophobic, meaning Rick Perry will never be president.
Bree: And finally, latex condoms are elastic hydrocarbon polymers. That information will never be relevant to an organic chemistry student.
Tyler: Thanks and good night folks! Try not to break any bookcases on your way out!