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About The daily Nebraskan. ([Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-current | View Entire Issue (April 25, 2000)
The Tony Awards
Acknowledging the schockear s best and worst
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With the semester drawing to a
close, I thought we’d all enjoy taking
a look back at the events of a memo
rable school year. For me, the year
had its highs - Britney Spears finally
turned 18 - and it’s lows -“Deuce
Bigalow: Male Gigolo.”
With that said, I am now going to
award the winners and losers of ’99
’00 in the first annual Tony awards.
The envelopes please.
The Tony award for Song of the
Year goes to Juvenile for “Back That
Thing Up.” Juvenile sums up the
thoughts of most guys out there when
he says, “you’s a big fine woman,
won’t you back that thing up.” I can’t
tell you the number of times I’ve
been tearing up the dance floor when
I spot a, shall we say, “big-boned”
girl I want to dance with.
Before this song I didn’t know
what to do, but thanks to Juvenile,
now I say, “girl you looks good,
won’t you back that thing up,” and
before I know it, I’ve got quarter-ton
girls dancing all around me.
The Tony award for Music Video
of the Year goes to Sisqo for “Thong
Finally, a man that loves thongs
as much as I do. The song captures
the sincerity in his voice, and the
video captures the multi-talented Dru
Hill front man giving it his all in the
name of the thong. If you haven’t
seen the video, imagine Sisqo as a
modern-day Sammy Davis Jr., with
platinum blonde hair, and a love of
The video starts out on Miami
Beach, with Sisqo paying tribute to
the thong. The ending takes this
video to another level. There’s Sisqo
on a stage complete with fireworks,
dancers, an orchestra dnd, surprise]
surprise, more girls in thongs! I
would advise all local bands making
a music video to follow this advice:
If it’s got a thong, you can’t go
The Tony award for Excellence in
Song Lyrics goes to Mandy Moore
for “Candy” and Eiffel 65 for “Blue.”
As you can see, it would be impossi
ble to deny either of these songs the
I’ll start with Mandy Moore.
Mandy: so young, so hot, so full of
talent. “I’m craving for you, I’m
missing you like candy.” The lyrics
will no doubt inspire a generation of
female songwriters. She’s still young,
but I will be the first to say I spot a
young female version of Bob Dylan.
As for Eiffel 65, whoever penned
the verse “I’m blue a-ba dee a-ba da,
abada dee-ba daba da,” my hats off to
you. Each time I hear it I laugh, then
I cry, then I dance.
The Tony award for Most Over
Hyped Movie of the Year goes to
“The Sixth Sense.”
Sorry, I just didn’t buy Bruce
Willis or that stupid kid. I wanted to
laugh during the whole “I see dead
people” segment, and frankly, I
found the Pamela/Tommy Lee video
The Tony for Best Special Effects
in a Motion Picture goes to Julia
Roberts’ cleavage in “Erin
Brockovich.” My only question is:
Where have those things been all
these years? Fellas, if you haven’t
seen it, they’re worth the price of
The local Tony awards are given
for noteworthy things that happened
on campus. Our first award is the
Tim Neumann Coaching Integrity
Tony. It goes to Danny Nee.
Usually Daniel and Nebrasketball
wait until the end of the season to
self-destruct. This year we got to
watch the team self-destruct all sea
son long! Danny punished us for
making fun of the N.I.T. by not even
making it that far this year. He called
the boosters, the only people who
give a damn about Nebraska basket
ball anyway, “sons of bitches.”
Top that, Barry Collier!
This year’s Lawrence Phillips
Sportsman of the Year Tony goes to
DeAngelo Evans. DeAngelo showed
us that although there’s no “I” in
team, there is an “I” in quit. Good
luck at whatever insignificant
Division II school you’ll be at next
season. I’ve got some words of
advice for you D, memorize the
phrase, “would you like fries with
The Tony for Most Useless Thing
On Campus, barely edging out the
ionized water fountain, is NU
Tony Bock is a junior broadcasting major and a Daily Nebraskan columnist
more, but it
hasn’t done any
thing for me to
write about. Anyone
been to nutodo.com
I didn’t think so.
Keep up the good
work guys, your
time and grant
money are run
ning out. '
award is a big
of the 1999-2000 School
Year at the University of
Nebraska goes to the uni
versity’s handling of the
Tom Green controversy.
I’d like to thank the
administration for teach
ing us that when something
goes wrong, you should
pretend you didn’t know
what was going to hap
pen, hide the facts
(who did pay for
Green to come here
spread the blame.
There is no
to all the winners,
and we’ll see
you next fall!
Humans are dropping their garbage in other galaxies
r J— -- --1 . . . ..... .... .....
Hello, I’m astronaut Susan, and
I was sent by the Discovery
Channel to research the atmosphere
up here for last week’s special titled
“Crap in Space.” Now I’m just hang
There’s garbage floating around
me right now, though if I were to try
and touch it, it would knock my hand
clean off my body.
! You probably don’t want to see
that, do you?
1 Oh, yes? Well, I guess in today’s
society it is better to see gore and
keep the kids happy than see some
thing intelligent and bore the piss out
Anyway, back to the matter at
hand. My hand! It’s still attached to
my ooayi i guess we can oe tnankiui
for the little things in life.
I (Astronaut Susan) was talking
about garbage. Space. Garbage in
space. It doesn’t compute. Garbage in
space equals dirty careless astronauts.
I shower regularly, I brush my teeth
when duty calls and I always change
my underwear on the summer sol
stice, no matter where I am.
I’ll fill you in on a little secret:
Astronauts are only human, therefore
it’s no surprise that there is garbage in
space - and that we take really long
showers. Humans in general take long
showers, not just astronauts.
Here’s a clip from my Earth
buddy from Norway, Sven.
“Hello, this is Earth-buddy Sven.
Earth’s ‘back yard’ is so cluttered
with space junk that the United States
and Norway have planned a giant
radar station to help track the orbiting
There are an estimated 9,500
manmade objects in orbit around
Earth. About 93 percent of them are
garbage, including dead satellites,
booster rockets, bolts and metal bits.
1 nese bits are Hying at you, busan,
right now at 17,000 miles an hour.
If such an object hit a new satel
lite or spaceship (or Susan’s hand), it
would cause serious damage. That’s
all I have. Be careful up there.” (det
Yeah, they have machines up here
now that “monitor” the garbage float
ing ‘round up here. Right now I can
see two gloves ... a couple of screw
drivers ... an angry astronaut’s dead
husband.... You get the drift (from
the dead rotten corpse I assume).
I ask, “Are we this mighty? Do we
really need, or feel so compelled by
passion, to not only destroy our planet
but also our solar system?”
The answer is so simple; that’s
why I have to watch my hand now. I
am no longer afraid of that one in a
million chance that a meteor will hit
me on earth, but that one in 10 chance
that earthly repugnant garbage will
hit me up here.
We humans (a phrase encompass
ing astronauts) not only “own” Earth
and all developing stars, but we just
bought the rights from God, Allah,
buddah, 1 he black Hole and lshtar to
“own” the Solar System.
Outer space. It’s ours now through
blood money, and we can do whatever
we want with the goodies it mani
fests. We are sort of treating outer
space as a large camping trip in which
our motto is the antithesis of “Pack
out what you pack in.”
How hard is it to not leave a trail
describing your life in three discarded
For my sake, think of all the cry
ing aliens up there shedding a single
tear in remembrance of the void we
have decided to fill.
I tried to console them with
words, but they didn’t understand
English, so now I’m leaving space
with an alien “bun in the oven.” These
aliens are just too sexy, and I have no
will to control myself, and it’s so
lonely up here ...
Personally, I think space isn’t such
a fountain of wonder anymore
because of its new and exciting allure'
but because it’s another toilet to dump
our crap in. The humans, not the
astronauts, want to dump their crap.
Us astronauts are tar more civilized
than “normal” humans.
No longer is it amazing to simply
ponder, “What’s out there, from
Andromeda and beyond?” but
“What’s out there malleable enough
that we can use to expand, contract
and seek out what we want for trans
portation and development of life?
Our life and no one else’s?”
Space is the only thing left to con
quer in a world where we can decode
DNA and clone things at will. And
don’t try and tell me cloning won’t go
there - we will soon start seeing so
many Carrot Tops or, god forbid, the
entire cast of “Hollywood Squares,”
that we’ll have to gnaw off our own
feet just to be different than them.
Well kids, I’m leaving Las Vegas.
(It’s a small town near the North
Star). I have two mottos for ya’ll. The
first is a reminder of what will hap
pen if you waste this summer work
ing for The Man, so take heed and
remember, “All work and no play
makes Moses a dull prophet.”
Here’s the next motto to leave you
with: “Litter - do it. It’s OK. There’s
eight more planets left.”
Karen Brown is a senior English and film studies major and a Daily Nebraskan columnist.
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