Tonight, President Obama will be delivering his fifth State of the Union address, a speech in which he will be looking back at his first five years as Alderman of the United States and forward to the future of the country.

This speech marks a historic moment in recent history, as it is the first time since he has been in office that Obama has a higher approval rating than either Justin Bieber and Dennis Rodman.

Following the speech, three republicans will be giving their rebuttals to the President’s agenda.  The early word is that the three responders will be wearing Camelbaks, so they can avoid another Marco Rubio-like hydration debacle.

While the past year has not been his best, Obama has elevated his public image by not smoking crack, but perhaps tonight will be the night.

If you’re a fan of men who wink after every sentence, Kangol hats, and the year 1989, then you were excited to see LL Cool J hosting last night’s 56^th Grammy Awards.

LL Cool J, or, “Ladies Love Cool J,” has inexplicably been the host of the Grammy Awards for THREE CONSECUTIVE YEARS. How could this man, a relic of a bygone era, have been the host for THREE YEARS IN A ROW?!  The only explanation: he saved the president of CBS, his wife, and kids from a murderer while on set of Law and Order.

In between commercials for Two Broke Girls, there were awards given and performances by the year’s best artists and some country singers.  The main event of the show came during Macklemore’s performance of his hit song, “Same Love,” when Queen Latifah officiated the wedding of 33 individual couples.

What really had me wondering was how they found all of those couples who were willing to be upstaged at their own wedding by Taylor Swift.  Maybe they put an ad on Craigslist?  After the wedding Madonna came out and really got the party going, wearing all white and using a cane.  I just hope she is okay.

Maybe next year the Baha Men will finally get their chance to host, but until then, it is LL Cool J’s world and we’re just living in it.

If you didn’t know who Richard Sherman was a week ago, you probably do now.

Sherman, the self-proclaimed “best corner (back) in the game (football),” will also be featured in Fox anchor Erin Andrews’ dreams every night for the rest of her life. Sherman’s twenty second post game rant, after Sunday’s NFC championship, has made him the most watched man in America, giving Chris Christie a break from being the center of attention, allowing the governor to finally get back to the gym.

After earning his team a spot in the Super Bowl with a game winning interception, Sherman told Andrews, “Don’t you ever talk about me!”

So my big question is, why is everybody talking about Richard Sherman right now!?!  Even my grandma has been tweeting about how Richard Sherman is the Kanye West of the NFL.  In my opinion, she and the rest of America are just asking Sherman to shut their mouths for them.  His words, not mine.

Perhaps a more effective tactic would have been for Sherman to tell everybody to always talk about him. Classic reverse psychology.   I mean come on, Richard, you know that if you tell us not to do something that we are going to try it once or twice, just to see how it makes us feel.  And guess what? It feels so good.

This past Tuesday, Justin Bieber, best known for his work as an animal rights activist, received an early morning visit from the po-po.  Authorities inspected Bieber’s 6.5 million dollar playpen to follow up on a report that Biebs had caused $20,000 in damage to a neighbor’s home after pelting it with eggs.

To clarify: Bieber bought eggs and stored them in what must be the largest refrigerator in the continental United States.

Then, when the time was right, Bieber removed the eggs from his fridge and threw said eggs at his neighbor’s home, causing 20,000 dollars in damage.

The hat-wearing, animal-loving, brothel-visiting sensation has declined to comment until he is properly lawyered up.  I would imagine that at this very moment, Bieber is on the horn with Barry Bonds’ lawyer, discussing tactics for defense in a performance-enhancing drug suit.

Unless one of the “eggs” was actually a hand grenade, there is simply no way that Bieber was able to perform this feat without a little bit of juice.  It’s not like Bieber caused this kind of damage to a fort made out of pillows.  The houses in Justin’s gated community must have been built by people who hold every cheat code from The Sims ever invented.

All I’m saying is that before we throw Bieber and his pet monkey behind bars, we should see what else he can do.  Maybe he can fly or bend spoons with his mind.  At the very least, we should harvest his arms for science or to make a sequel to the 1993 cinematic inspiration, Rookie of the Year.

This could finally unlock the secret of how Bieber has been dodging puberty like his life depends on it.

Earlier this month, the rapper Nas agreed to lend his name to the creation of the Nassir Jones fellowship for the study of hip-hop at Harvard. In his introduction, Nas basically said what we were all thinking: “hip hop is important like computer science.” Instead of just getting jealous of Harvard I decided to think of a few rappers that Yale should pursue for their own staff to one-up our rivals in Cambridge.

Jedi Mind Tricks—It would be sweet to take a class called “Jedi Mind Tricks” taught by the Philly rap group, Jedi Mind Tricks.

R.A. the Rugged Man—Sections would be taught in HGS by T.A. the Rugged Boi.

Lil Romeo—I would just like to hear about what he has been up to since his cameo in Max Keeble’s Big Move.

2 Chainz—This rapper, known to his early followers as Tity Boi, graduated college with a 4.0 GPA. He could spend a whole semester teaching students about what the lyrics to any one of his songs means.

R Kelly—He could teach Yalies how to be unpredictable. After all, this is the guy who wrote a song as inspirational as “I Believe I Can Fly,” as well as a song called “Black Panties.”

Del tha Funkee Homosapien—He could teach a class called something like, “Coming Up with Names.”

Taking a class taught by any of these rappers would be incredible, although if R Kelly gets the job, and you’re lucky enough to get into it, I might suggest you take it cr/d/f : that guy’s a wild card.

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Do you find men like Edward Snowden and Julian Assange to be dangerous? If you answered yes or “doo-dah,” in furbish, to this question, then what follows will terrify you.

After a little p-set procrastination, we learned that back in 1999, the NSA banned furbies, the toy that had all of our parents looking like Arnold Schwarzenegger in Jingle All the Way in the weeks leading up to the 1996 holiday season, from their Fort Meade, MD headquarters.

Furbies were perceived to have had the ability to learn English as well as classified national secrets, making them the second most dangerous toy to the race car from Home Alone 3, which had the missile codes on it or something like that.

To think that we invited these furry Benedict Arnolds into our homes and gave them a finger to chew on. I thought that when my furby said, “Kah may-may oo-nye” that he (or she, I never quite got to the bottom of this) meant it.  I for one feel totally played.

These days the millions of Furbies that used to make their home in these United States of America have been granted asylum by a KB Toys in Russia. Now it’s all starting to make sense.

Recently, the New York Post reported on the epidemic that has spread across the abyss of New York City elite private schools: the “rando-fest”, or the “wild party” as it is known to your great uncle Ralph.

According to the Post, the parties are dubbed “rando-fests” because students will down between four and five shots, no more and no less, and then will try to have sex with “randos” or “unattractive drunken girls.”

These little Rugrats have been known to drop some serious quiche (also known as quinoa, or cash) to get into these parties.  Apparently, the hosts of these parties can make a pretty (or an unattractive, drunken) penny on these parties.

When asked to comment, most alumni of these private schools, currently enrolled at Yale, note how things have slowed down for them socially since turning 18.  At Yale, the former-merrymakers from NYC prefer sitting by their Vanderbilt Hall fireplace while sipping a nice single malt to the rando-fests of yore. A good choice.

We’ve all done it. You know, light up a crack pipe after a few beers and then just sit back, relax, and scream racist/homophobic comments.  It’s not a big deal. It’s not like we’re living in the 1950s when crack was illegal.

It’s just not that big of an issue anymore, so can everyone just back off of Toronto Mayor, Rob Ford??  He didn’t lie about it.  Ford even said today, “I wasn’t lying.  You (the lame stream media) didn’t ask the right questions.”

I hope someone remembered to ask him if he inhaled.

Ford told the media today that he was just waiting for the magic word.  “If the media had just said, ‘Please, do you smoke crack?’ we could have put this issue to bed back in May.”

That means the press would have to explicitly ask him about every possible illegal thing he could have ever done.  Have you cut off your own hand and made a stranger carry it in their backpack? Have you dragged a dead horse down the street on a Sunday? Have you ever paid for a fifty-cent item with only pennies?

But in all seriousness this guys should actually resign immediately.  Smoking crack is really something for the post public service life.  Maybe he can still get in on that time-share in the Hamptons with Anthony Weiner.

Just when we thought we knew everything about frozen yogurt, New Haven proved us wrong…again.

As Pink Berry prepares to open up a new store on Chapel Street, Yalies can expect a frozen battle as intense as the ’98 Nagano Olympics, when Michelle Kwan ate Tara Lipinski’s ice shavings for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

All I’m saying is that if Pinkberry wants to move into Froyo World’s backyard, they’d better be ready to bring it.

Here’s how the PB execs can rise to the challenge.

1) Sing a song and I will tip you. Period—I know this is Coldstone’s thing, but I doubt they have TM’ed, copywritten or trademarked it. It doesn’t have to be dessert related. It just needs to happen. I’ll definitely drop a couple bucks in the tip jar for any song off of Hall & Oates’ Greatest Hits.

2) Host a speaker series featuring the froyo baristas—They’re people, too, and I’m sure they’ve got some stories.  We want to hear them.

3) Sell warm beverages—News flash titans of industry: we are in New England.  When there’s three feet of snow on the ground the very last thing that I want to shovel into my mouth is a frosty, snow-like treat no matter how much mochi is on top.

4) Alert the public as to what exactly a mochi is—My lack of awareness about this topping never stops me from eating irresponsible amounts of it, but it would be nice to have some idea of what I am consuming.  Maybe you can work this into the speaker series, and while you’re at it tell us what the heck a Pinkberry is and why you refuse to offer it as one of your many delicious accoutrements.

Also, I’m taking this opportunity to call for a debate among the leadership of the three major Froyo superpowers (Pinkberry, Froyo World and Flavors). We all have questions, and we all deserve answers.

Nothing gets my heart beating like the anticipation of what could be behind a massive piece of scaffolding, so you can imagine the utter ecstasy I experienced when I arrived at Yale’s campus and saw the scaffolding covering the artist formerly known as Au Bon Pain (Spanish for, “Meat Shoppe”).

Recent speculation predicts the space will be filled by a Brooks Brothers. That sucks on all levels, unless you are planning to dress up as Charles B. Johnson ’54 for Halloween, or you are going to a Bar Mitzvah sometime soon.

Here’s what I think would be better than a Brooks Brothers.

1) A McDonald’s Playplace sans the McDonalds.
-I love a good ball pit.

2) Another frozen yogurt shop
-Just kidding, this town has enough dairy based dessert products to feed this country east and west and north and south of the Mississippi.

3) A store that is a permanent bake sale, but is NOT A BAKERY!
-I am tired of eating brownies without a cause. I want to eat cookies like mama makes while helping to fund a little league baseball team, or a church trip to Peru, por ejemplo.

4) The Art of Shaving
-This store defines optimal usage of space.

5) Laser Tag
-Laser tag is sweet.

6) A scaffolding store
-At this point, doesn’t it just make sense to buy instead of rent?