Guess who’s bizack. Ahhh, finally the gag has been removed, the censorship has been lifted, and the infamous Uzoma Kevin Iheagwara ’04 is back in action. This angry black man has been oppressed long enough. I’ve been tied up in the Phillipian room cellar by “The Men” Craig Ferarro ’03 and Duncan Dwyer ’03. After two months of shouting “Give me free! Give me free!” to Duncan and Craig, they turned my fate over to Dan Koh ’03. And back by popular demand (by that I mean demand only from Dan Koh), I was released into this beautiful world. Much like Sisqo, I’m going to give the people what they want, thongs and all. So what do we have up for this edition of the Apollo Theatre Dispatch? Well, since I’ve been gone, Phillips Academy has instated a rule, requiring ID cards for entrance into dances and Ryley. In fact, I encountered this problem last weekend. After a hard week of work and sports, I conversed with Derrick Kuan ’04: Uzoma Kevin Iheagwara: Yo Derrick, let’s go clubbin’, I gotta hit up this spot because I’m straight up ol G. Holla! Derrick Kuan: Yeah you know how we be, I heard ’bout this new hot spot called Club Andova. Not Andover, but Andova. Uzoma: Word, let’s bring BonHomme cuz he got that stud juice, maybe he’ll let me borrow some. Derrick: Whatever fool, you ignorant, we’ll go at the 10 spot. Derrick and I prepared feverously (even after SAT’s, I still don’t know what that word means) for the club. [Editor’s Note: Uzoma, feverously isn’t a word]. In preparation, we listened to all 4 versions of “I need a girl” by P. Diddy. I said that I was P. Diddy and that Derrick was Loon. But then he beat me with a stick and changed the analogy so that he was LL Cool J and I was LL Bean. Holla. So we proceeded to Club Andova in the Borden Gym. With Mr. D. as the bouncer, we proceeded towards the VIP line. Mr. D: Let me see your IDs, guys. Derrick: Alright, no problem Mr. D: Go ahead, Derrick. Where’s your ID, Uz? Uzoma: Ummm, my dog ate it. Mr. D: That is the worst reason I have heard tonight. You can’t go in. You don’t have no dog. That’s whack! And thus, I was bounced from the party. But I didn’t let that little disappointment silence my longing to go clubbing. I tried to get into the party through the back door, and, to my surprise, it was a success. But after a few songs I got on stage, and the OPP henchmen threw me out. After landing face first onto the ground, I had a brilliant epiphany. I stole the Gunga suit and snuck into the dance. Things were going great, seeing that everyone loves Gunga. But then Mr. D got suspicious when Gunga started macking on a little lady; I was bounced from the club once again. After countless attempts to get into the club failed, I was about to give up until my savior showed up. No, not that savior, but Saudi Prince Alwaleed. Saudi Prince: What is wrong, Young African Man? The men I see near my country are usually happy. Uzoma: Man, I can’t get into this party because I don’t have an ID. Saudi Prince: I have much money. I will make you a fake ID. Uzoma: Word? Saudi Prince: Yes, those were words. And that was how Saudi Prince Alwaleed helped me legitimately get back into Club Andova. So every time you’re in a fix, just look towards the Middle East. Holla.
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