Chude Uzoka-Anofienem, Staff Writer

No doubt, you are all familiar with the name Hulk Hogan. Even if you’ve never watched professional wrestling in your life, or you think it’s stupid, Hulk Hogan’s name is synonymous with the industry. The face of what was once known as the World Wrestling Federation in the 80s and 90s, Hulk Hogan became a household name. The man who was credited with reviving the New World Order (nWo) storyline after WWE purchased WCW, was fired in 2015 (he was rehired three years later) after a taped conversation in 2007 containing an incredibly racist diatribe that came to light years later.

One could debate whether somebody should lose their job for things they say off-the-cuff in their own personal lives, but that’s not a discussion I’m interested in. I’d prefer to discuss a favorite topic of mine: hypocrisy. The WWE has a long and storied history of racist and bigoted behavior. Does that excuse Hulk Hogan? No, of course it doesn’t. However, for a company that has spent decades profiting from racial stereotypes and degrading portrayals of Black wrestlers, it’s telling that this is the first time they acted like they cared.

Wrestlers always have a gimmick; an in-ring character or persona. Even not having a gimmick is considered a gimmick in and of itself. Hulk Hogan was the real American and savior of the United States. Meanwhile other wrestlers had some kind of job, like a garbage man or a prison guard. Black wrestlers, however, were always saddled with some sort of questionable gimmick. 

In the 80s and 90s, you had Bad News Brown, a scary Black man whose finisher is named the “Ghetto Blaster”, named after a portable stereo or a boombox, primarily used in ghettos. Flash Funk had a ridiculous outfit and had “Fly Girls” accompany him to the ring. Moe and Mabel, or the Men on a Mission, rapped during their entrances.

These are pretty tame, but then you had Papa Shongo, a voodoo priest/witch doctor. The man who portrayed him also portrayed “The Godfather,” a pimp who is accompanied to the ring by prostitutes. A pretty egregious example is Kamala, a savage tribesman who was very confused about everything and spoke in grunts. He was managed by his “handlers,” one of whom was named “Kim Chee” (named of course after the Korean food) who beat and abused him if he did something wrong.

Then there was Virgil, billed as the bodyguard of the Million Dollar Man Ted DiBiase, he was practically a modern slave forced under the beck and call of a rich white man. DiBiase has even said that he owns Virgil. Virgil eventually beat DiBiase in the WWE and broke free of “servin’ his’ massa.”

Some of the more racially questionable moments revolved around Ron Simmons, who played professional football before joining WCW. The WWF called him Faarooq, gave him a Black Power angle and led a Black Power group called The Nation of Domination. This group included Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. They all saluted before matches kind of like The Black Panthers and feuded with redneck bikers (The Disciples of the Apocalypse) and a Latino gang (Los Boricuas).

The NOD was the target of several racially insensitive storylines from their opponents including blackface (Generation X-themed group called DX) and having their locker room vandalized with things like “We hate you,” “Stay in your own country,” “Uncle Tom,” and KFC and Malcolm X crossed out (Canadian group The Heart Foundation). This all happened in the late 90s. Not the 30s, the 90s. 

The WWF didn’t necessarily need a Black wrestler around in order to be insulting to African Americans. Take Akeem, The African Dream. His gimmick is that he’s a large white man from South Carolina who spoke in an exaggerated “Black Accent” and donned something resembling traditional African garb…I guess. His manager was The Doctor of Style, Slick, a Black man whose original gimmick was that of a pimp in a 70s blaxploitation film, until he renounced that role and became a stereotypically Black Southern preacher. 

Let’s not forget about all the other minorities and ethnicities they’ve insulted. The talented Tito Santana was El Matador – a Spanish bullfighter – even though he was Mexican and not from Spain. Similarly, Razor Ramon was a greasy, gold-chain-wearing Cuban thug who adopted a Tony Montana wannabe gimmick, but he wasn’t Cuban at all. He was played by Scott Hall, a white guy from Maryland.

In order to take advantage of the turmoil going on in the Middle East at the time, they had Sgt. Slaughter, an American military man who adopted a traitor gimmick, turning on the USA to join the side of our Middle Eastern enemies. Slaughter was paired with the Iron Sheik (then known as Colonel Mustafa) and General Adnan–both of whom were Iranian-while the U.S. was at war with Iraq, but details don’t matter apparently.

Hulk Hogan would defeat the foreign enemy of the day. Along with Sgt. Slaughter, Hogan defeated the Iron Sheik, Nikolqi Volkokai, (a Russian fighter who was Croatian) and Yokozuna, a Japanese Sumo Wrestler who was played by a large Samoan man who looked “kind of Asian.” The US hasn’t even been enemies with Japan in years but he’s foreign, so that makes him a “bad guy.”

When Samoans were allowed to be Samoans, they were usually depicted as uncivilized tribesmen. For example, The Headshrinkers were a pair of wild savages that chewed on turkey carcasses before matches and their manager would carry around the shrunken heads of their enemies. A quick Google search reveals that tribes in the Amazon are the only documented tribes to practice head shrinking, but Wikipedia didn’t exist in the 90s, so it was easier to fool the audience.      

I’d also like to point out that in the history of the heavyweight championship, there have been nine visible minorities that have ever held the title: Pedro Morales, Antonio Inoki, The Iron Sheik, Yokozuna, The Rock, Eddie Guerero, Rey Mysterio, Albert Del Rio and Jinder Mahal. If you count the secondary title that they had for a while, that includes a few more: Seth Rollins, Booker T, Mark Henry, Roman Reigns, The Great Khali, Bobby Lashley, Kofi Kingston and Big E. There have been over 50 championships and this history dates back to the 1960s. 

Wrestling is scripted, the outcomes are predetermined. It’s not about who’s better, someone just decides who will win. For the longest time, that someone was, but will no longer be, Vince McMahon. He’s the same man who would’ve likely given the order to remove Hulk Hogan from the company and erase his bio from the website. The same man who likely oversaw, approved or directed every racist gimmick and storyline I’ve mentioned – along with plenty of others that I didn’t mention. 

It doesn’t help his case that there’s a very famous video of Vince McMahon being racist in an attempt to look “cool” in front of John Cena—a white guy who, let’s be honest, kind of appropriates hip-hop culture himself. The moment was played for laughs.

So, Vince McMahon, who casually dropped the ugliest word in the English Language on live TV in front of millions and has been part of the decision-making process for decades of racially insensitive, characters, gimmicks and skits, fired a guy for saying the same slur in a private conversation. Again, not saying he shouldn’t have been fired–just saying that Vince McMahon’s moral compass might require a little recalibration. Uttering a racial slur to your friends is an unforgivable sin, but creating a slave or African Tribal character or having people perform in blackface and profiting off racist caricatures for decades? That’s just good business. Glad we’re on the same page.

Ring the bell! This match is over! Here is your winner….HYPOCRISY!!

Chude Uzoka-Anofienem, Staff Writer

The internet is a strange and unpredictable place—a massive arena where people joke, argue, and try to figure out where the line is between free expression and responsibility. Some see it as a playground for humor and unfiltered speech, while others believe it should be held to a higher ethical standard. That tension fuels ongoing debates about what’s acceptable, what’s offensive, and who gets to decide. Most of us have encountered those two groups of people that we’re all familiar with. Offenders (extremist trolls looking to provoke by being purposely offensive) and offendies (extremist whiners looking to get attention by acting like everything, everywhere is an insult). Usually, we laugh at these people and pay them no mind, but the combination of these two extremes have led to an interesting issue being addressed: our humor.

Humor plays a huge role in shaping online culture, from memes to satire to dark comedy. But what one person finds hilarious, another might find deeply offensive. This clash is even more apparent in diverse online communities, where people of different backgrounds, values, and sensitivities collide. Some argue that humor should be completely unrestricted, while others believe certain jokes reinforce harmful stereotypes or normalize discrimination.

Then there’s the battle between those who push buttons and those who push back. Some people deliberately stir the pot—trolls, provocateurs or just people who enjoy getting a rise out of others. On the other side are those who call out offensive content, believing they’re fighting for justice and accountability. These conflicts can spark meaningful conversations, but they can also spiral into online harassment or full-blown social movements, with each side convinced they’re in the right.

Are either of these sides right?

Well, some of you may not be shocked to know that offensive comedy is nothing new. Comedians have censored, harassed and even been locked up for jokes today. George Carlin, one of the world’s most beloved rulebreakers once said of comedy that “it doesn’t work unless someone’s getting offended.” In a way, he’s right. Someone’s pride does have to be challenged in order for it to work. But I think what most good comedians realize is that the more truth in the pain that you can get across, the more impactful the humor is. 

Accountability is another thorny issue. Anonymity can be a shield, allowing people to speak freely without fear of real-world consequences. But, it also gives cover to bad actors who wouldn’t say certain things if their names were attached to them. That raises a big question: Should platforms enforce stricter rules to curb harmful content, or does that cross the line into censorship?

Social media, in particular, has become the main battleground for these cultural and ideological clashes. Some people worry that heavy-handed moderation stifles creativity and humor, turning online spaces into overly sanitized echo chambers. Others argue that without rules, misinformation, hate speech, and harmful rhetoric can spread unchecked. But who should draw the line—tech companies, governments or the users themselves? The answer could shape the future of online interaction.

And then there’s “cancel culture,” a divisive issue in and of itself. Some see it to hold people accountable for problematic behavior, while others view it as a knee-jerk, mob-driven form of punishment. Should people lose their careers or reputations over things they said years ago? Is there room for growth and redemption, or is the court of public opinion unforgiving?

At its core, the internet reflects all the messy, complicated dynamics of the real world—just amplified. It’s a place where humor and offense, freedom and boundaries, anonymity and accountability all exist in a delicate balance. As online communities grow and evolve, so will the conversation about where to draw the line. The challenge is finding a way to encourage open dialogue without sacrificing mutual respect. There are no easy answers, but how we navigate these issues now will shape the future of digital discourse for years to come.

Peyton Harris, Editor

It’s been a long three months since the news rocked campus about the closure of La Salle’s Starbucks location, based in the Union building. Students were rightfully outraged at the news, which seemed to come at the very last moment before the end of the fall semester. What was the reason? Where was the student input? Questions the La Salle community is still asking.

Members of university administration have said it was quote-unquote ‘based on discussion and feedback from the student body’; but from who, exactly? The Student Government Association (SGA) was not aware prior, nor were many student leaders. Student employees were sworn to secrecy when they were told in September. The only hope after the news of Starbucks’ impending closure was the replacement the university promised would ‘elevate our campus experience.’ So, the question remains: where is it?

If you’ve set foot inside the Union this semester, you’ve likely seen the brown-papered, covered-up windows of the former Starbucks space. A poster for the proposed venue, renamed “The Hideaway” has been hung for months, with no update or expected opening date given to students. Perhaps foolishly, students expected the new space to be open by the beginning of the semester. As midterms approach, we’re still waiting for answers.

“So many students relied on Starbucks for a multitude of reasons,” said junior Cassidy McGonigle. “It was a place to get breakfast, or to study and it’s unfair that we don’t have somewhere to go anymore. We have been told it would be open when we got back to school, and now it won’t be open until after spring break. How long are we going to have to keep waiting for a place for us to get coffee?”

It is worth mentioning that there is a coffee spot on campus: Founder’s Brew, located in Founders’ Hall. However, this spot is inconvenient–some argue inaccessible–for most students. Founders’ Hall is one of the furthest buildings from the central area of La Salle’s campus, which was a selling point for Starbucks. Its centralized location within the Union provided equal access to students coming from all ends of campus, as well as being within easy walking distance to the majority of dorms and other academic halls.

“Most students do not spend their time anywhere near Founders’, so it is very out of the way to go all the way to Founders’ to get a drink. We should be able to walk into the Union and have a place to sit, study, and have coffee and refreshments. It’s unbelievable that we don’t have anything besides Founder’s Brew,” said McGonigle.

Lack of communication is a large part of students’ concerns. Sophomore Claire Herquet shared that sentiment, saying: “We’ve gotten little update about the construction and specific changes being implemented in the space. Of course, Starbucks being gone has made so much of our campus community upset, but seeing that there hasn’t been much work done to the area and no social media posts or emails asking us for our feedback shows more neglect.”

“I know a lot of it has to do with funding and doing what is financially smart, and we as students understand that. Yet since something we loved and relied on was taken from us, we deserve more communication from those who made that decision,” said Herquet.

The university’s current solution while the student body anxiously awaits this new space? Coffee pots and one or two flavored creamers. Each day, a pot of coffee is placed on a folding table outside the former Starbucks, still-not-open Hideaway, with some cups and different creamers available for students to take. While the sentiment is appreciated, it’s also a bit of a slap in the face. ‘Here, take this free cup of instant coffee, and maybe you’ll forget about what’s going on back there.’

Students and faculty alike are frustrated at the lack of updates provided by the university. Multiple posts on Fizz social app continue to share these frustrations, each often garnering hundreds of upvotes. And rightfully so, as Starbucks was a staple on campus for years. People came to rely on it for many different reasons: as a study space, hangout spot or simply as a place to get your caffeine fix. We have a right as a community to be upset, even angry.

I will be the first to admit that I run on caffeine, day in and out. I remember touring La Salle as a transfer student, seeing the Starbucks on campus and thinking, ‘Great! I have my go-to place.’ When I first heard the news–through Fizz, as the university did not say anything until the student body discovered the news ourselves–I was upset, but wanted to give the university the benefit of the doubt. Maybe this new venue would actually be better. Maybe we would have better choices, options and opportunities. However, my concern and frustration has only increased as time has gone on. Why is La Salle not providing updates about The Hideaway? Will it even be open this semester at this point? What is going on?

This doesn’t mean that we don’t want this new space to succeed; I feel I speak for a lot of us when I say that any new spot to replace Starbucks would be an improvement after the past few months without. Lasallians deserve timely updates from our administrators. When I first co-wrote an article about the closure last semester, we rhetorically asked the university what their reasoning was for taking away and updating this campus institution. Unfortunately, that question remains unanswered. And now, three months on, we deserve to know more. So once again, La Salle administrators, let me end again with this: “Many Explorers feel angry and blindsided, while others simply want answers on why.”

Nate Tramdaks, Staff Writer

Las Vegas was built on mafia money, but today it’s expanding on the money wagered by frat guys. What was once an oasis for high rollers, a city of smoky card rooms, cocktails and Rat Pack sets, has now turned into a digital trap for degeneracy. All of the novelties of Vegas have been replaced with push notifications, deposit bonuses and endless parlays.

Today, the house doesn’t just win, it lives in your pocket, and its primary target is young men. They are lured in through the slick marketing, the illusion of skill and delusion of turning a $10 12-leg parlay into a semester’s tuition. The game is rigged and the pitfalls are not just financial, they’re psychological, social and systemic. The sportsbooks are preying on young men and setting them up for failure. 

So, why are young men predisposed to sports gambling and gambling in general?  It simply boils down to the egotistical nature of 20-year olds, as well as their naivety. 18-25 year old men are the demographic that got really into day-trading during the pandemic, and what day-trading and sports betting have in common is that they both require good information to be successful in. 

This is where their egotistical nature comes in. They all think that their sport knowledge gives them an edge, like they know more than the books. These young bettors make themselves believe that they are exploiting inefficiencies within the books, but they themselves are the inefficiency.

The books build their lines and spread off of public perception, like the stock market, so in the long-run, bettors are betting on negative margins. The sportsbooks rely on these bettors. A key concern for the sportsbooks when manufacturing lines and odds is the betting habits of their customers, and less the accuracy of the actual line.

An example of this in recent memory comes from Super Bowl 59. The Chiefs opened at 2.5 point favorites, and the line closed around the same number. This was a mind-blowing line because if you just compared the Eagles and Chiefs teams from this season, it was pretty evident the Eagles were the better team, as they showed. But the sentiment leading up to the Super Bowl was that one cannot bet against Patrick Mahomes. The books knew this and set the line accordingly. They didn’t make a line for accuracy, they made a line to exploit bettors’ biases. 

The sportsbooks don’t just rely on overconfidence and public perception, they actively design their systems to maximize bettor mistakes while making it seem like losses are just bad luck. This mirrors the drip loss effect in slot machines, where casinos ensure players lose money gradually rather than all at once. The longer a player stays in the game, the more they’ll bet. 

Sportsbooks have adapted this concept through the near-miss effect, with parlays serving as their most profitable trap. Parlays offer flashy, high-payout potential that lures bettors into making statistically doomed wagers. More often than not, a bettor will hit four out of six, or five out of six legs, reinforcing the illusion that they were close to a massive win. But in reality, they were never close at all, the odds were stacked against them from the start. These near-misses don’t discourage betting; they encourage it. They convince players that the next bet is the one that will hit, when in reality, it’s just another step in the slow bleed of their bankroll.

The near-miss effect is a more passive tactic, but these retail sportsbooks are data-driven machines that have more aggressive and predatory tactics. The most common tactic is the no-sweat bet or a deposit match. These are how the books reel in bettors to the apps.

You think you are getting spending power with no strings attached, but in reality, there are tons of stipulations that come with the “perks”. Once they get bettors in, it is non-stop with the promo offers, the free-play, and the VIP treatment. The books know when you like to bet, who you like to bet on, and your bet sizings. You are targeted specifically on these things. 

For many young men, it starts as just a ‘fun’ bet during the game. But over time, the losses pile up, and suddenly, it’s not about winning anymore, it’s about getting back what was lost. That’s exactly how the sportsbooks want it. What was supposed to be a fun way to enjoy sports quickly turns into a stress-inducing cycle.

The sportsbooks don’t just take money, they take mental real estate, making sure young men are always one bet away from ‘getting even.’ Gambling has become so normalized that young men don’t even see it as a problem. Losing money is just part of the game, and walking away feels like quitting. But in reality, the sportsbooks aren’t competing against bettors, they’re farming them.

Claire Herquet, Editor 

Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl LIX halftime show was a cultural and outspoken performance, with messages about racial inequality, the U.S. government and Black empowerment. With a discography of over 150 songs, Kendrick Lamar continues to be one of the deepest and most intelligent musical artists in the rap world, resulting in an exciting and thought-provoking halftime performance. In case you’ve missed the symbolism shown throughout, let’s break down and discuss some of the hidden meanings within his 13-minute show. 

Starting from the beginning, we are introduced to Mr. Samuel L. Jackson dressed as Uncle Sam. Uncle Sam, used in the early 19^th century to personify America, has always represented American pride and patriotism, but has also been used for propaganda on the subject of war. When it comes to accuracy, Lamar could have chosen a white man to embody this character and narrate the performance, as Uncle Sam is white. Instead, however, he chose to dive deeper and use a perspective held by Uncle Sam that black men are obedient and uphold white supremacy. And so, Samuel L. Jackson being dressed in an all-American uniform gives a clear demonstration that it does not matter what your skin tone is. 

Before Lamar’s first song is introduced, Jackson says, “And this is the great American game.” This statement is a double entendre because of course viewers know they are watching the Super Bowl, but Jackson is actually referring to the game that is America- living under the U.S. government’s rules and being black in this country.  

To start his first freestyle/piece, Lamar is standing on top of a 1987 Buick Grand National GNX, which is also the name of his most recent album released in Nov. 2024, “GNX.” Not only is this a representation of his album, but it also serves as a testament to his upbringing in Compton, California, since GNXs are a part of the car culture there. 

At the end of his freestyle Lamar states, “The revolution is about to be televised.” This is a play on words from Jill Scott Haran’s “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” song, which was a critique on the American media because she felt that they only focused on propaganda, consumerism and entertainment. 

However, for real change to be made for the greater good of society, people had to step out of their homes for liberation and protest for their freedom. This means you have to be actively involved to fight against injustice. Lamar then saying, “You picked the wrong guy” is an implication that he was chosen as the perfect person for this performance. Thus, the people dressed in red on stage alongside Lamar announce, “Someone better squabble up.” This statement not only is said to introduce his song “squabble up,” but tells the audience that we should be resilient and unapologetically dominant. 

Before the piece “squabble up” is even finished, the camera cuts to Samuel L. Jackson spectating as he demands, “No no no, too loud…too reckless…too ghetto. Mr. Lamar, do you really know how to play the game? Then tighten up!” This is clear conditioning within white supremacy and our country- that black people should obey, be quiet and be grateful for what they have. Lamar responds to and disregards Jackson’s order by transitioning to his song “Humble,” spreading the themes of self-awareness and the tension between authenticity while also “getting to the top” to reach your goals. His dancers are dressed and in formation as the American flag, with a division right in the middle (where Lamar is standing) that represents the clear division among Americans today.  

After performing “DNA,” Kendrick gets into “euphoria,” which is one of his diss tracks against pop artist Drake. At this point of his performance, many viewers began asking about Lamar’s silver “A” necklace and what it could mean. Although there is no solid explanation for it in the media quite yet, many are speculating that it could mean “A minor,” as he says in his “Not Like Us” song. Others speculate that the necklace could also be the logo for his website and brand PgLang.  

Lamar begins performing “man at the garden,” where he is seen underneath a streetlight and surrounded by men (his homeboys). We see a dancer on top of the lamppost, as they are in the tarot card pose of The Hanged Man to represent being sacrificed for the greater good. After the song, Samuel Jackson walks into the setting and view of the camera saying, “You brought your homeboys with you! The old culture cheat code! Scorekeeper, deduct one life.” When he says to deduct one life, he is asserting that Lamar is not playing by his rules and wants to get rid of him, or another black cultural leader. He is possibly hinting at black cultural leaders such as Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, Fred Hampton and more – all of whom were human rights activists and have since been assassinated.  

After performing “peekaboo,” Lamar is seen walking up to his four backup dancers saying, “I want to play their favorite song, but you know they love to sue.” Fans immediately understood this nod to Drake because while a small cut of “Not Like Us” plays in the background, he is insinuating that if he sings the song, Drake will sue him for defamation. Lamar cuts to his calmer songs such as “luther” and “All The Stars,” featuring R&B singer SZA. 

Our ringleader, Jackson, comes out onto the stage and says, “Yes! That’s what I’m talking about! That’s what America wants! Nice, calm. Don’t mess this up.” Again, back to the ideas of black men “needing” to be calm and quiet and complying to his rules of “how to play the game.” Lamar disregards him again, however, and begins with “40 acres and a mule, this is bigger than the music.” 40 acres and a mule was a promise that was made to free slaves from the government, saying that they now have governance and ownership of land and resources. The follow through for the promise was never made, so the meaning behind this statement by Lamar is that the systemic injustices and broken promises made to black Americans continue to resonate and impact their lives beyond this era of slavery, especially in light of our current political situation.  

“They tried to rid the game, but you can’t break influence,” Lamar says, shedding light on the fact that black culture is important and influential. From here, Lamar’s hit song “Not Like Us” begins, and his dancers drop to the ground, laying out on the stage under streetlights like dead bodies, representing those that have been killed by police brutality. 

From here, Kendrick continues to flame Drake with “Not Like Us,”  dancing on one of the largest stages in the world. Shoutout to professional tennis player and Drake’s ex-girl, Serena Williams, who was seen crip walking in two small clips before the performance wrapped. DJ and record producer Mustard was also brought on stage for his last song, “tv off,” which challenged viewers to not only consume his entertainment, but to let his words and actions resonate with us.  

Kendrick Lamar’s show will always be known as the most daring. The performance, ranking as the highest rated in history, was seen by an average of 133.5 million viewers across TV and streaming platforms, surpassing Michael Jackson’s Super Bowl XXVII performance as the most viewed halftime show in the U.S. With over 74 million views on YouTube, Lamar continues to be one of the most talked about musical artists in the industry right now, and for all the right reasons. He deserves all the recognition he has worked for, as he is always intelligent and deliberate with meaning, symbolism and visuals in his music and videos. The world hasn’t seen the best of him yet.

Chude Uzoka-Anofienem, Staff Writer

5. Nicki Minaj- “Big Foot”

Everyone knows about the Kendrick Lamar vs. Drake feud (more on that later). But before that, there was a minor spat between Nicki Minaj and Megan Thee Stallion that most people have probably forgotten. Nicki’s contribution to the drama? This abysmal track.

The song’s title references Megan’s height and the fact that she was shot at by her ex-boyfriend, rapper Tory Lanez, requiring foot surgery. Lanez ultimately went to prison for 10 years on various gun charges. Nicki, for some reason, chooses to side with a man who nearly killed his girlfriend, which is certainly a… choice.

4. Sexyy Redd feat. Drake – “U My Everything”

Sexyy Redd is just not for me—her lack of technical skill doesn’t really make up for how blatantly reckless she is. GloRilla is a stronger, more ambitious songwriter; Megan Thee Stallion has way more presence; Doechii is funnier, and CupcakKe is all of the above. And thankfully, we’re long past the days of relying solely on Nicki Minaj to carry the torch for women in rap. 

This track dropped after “Not Like Us,” and it was clearly designed to give Drake another summer hit—but it completely flopped. That should’ve been obvious from the jump. Tay Keith’s metallic, skeletal beat already felt hollow, and Sexyy Red trying to sing on-key (which is not her strong suit) only made it worse. And on top of that, you don’t even get her usual over-the-top raunchiness or any believable energy. At this point, is she permanently offbeat just because of contractual obligation? Then Drake slides in… and no, you’re not bullying anything—you got bullied. Maybe that’s why you thought lines like “I’ll turn librarian for you, I’m booking that s***” were clever, or why you felt the need to rap about a girl slipping, tripping, and falling onto you. And let’s not even get started on those cringeworthy university bars. 

But the most telling part? He tries to reclaim “BBL Drizzy” by bragging about how many female plastic surgeries he’s paid for—all while conveniently ignoring his own. The moment he tried to flip the joke in his favor, the vibe completely died. 

There were plenty of moments that made it clear Drake lost this beef. The back-to-back features on Camila Cabello’s album were one, “Wah Gwan Delilah” was another, but this? This was straight-up pathetic. They say the worst thing you can tell a guy is that he’s not as funny as he thinks he is—this was that moment. The culture has moved on and it might be time for him to go back, mend some bridges and start from the bottom again. 

3. (¥$) Kanye West and Ty Dolla $ign feat. Rich the Kid and Playboi Carti – “CARNIVAL” 

It’s a shame that such a great instrumental is wasted on such worthless lyrics. Lazy sexual innuendos are nothing new for me to complain about. The wordplay here is straight-up nonexistent. You don’t ride a carnival—you ride rides at a carnival. Basic logic clearly wasn’t a priority. 

After comparing himself to Jesus (lots of Christian values in this song by the way), Ye says that his kids are in a “fake school,” seemingly unaware of the fact that he opened an actual fake school. The Donda Academy, an unaccredited Christian private school, in which two teachers claimed they forced children to eat off the floor, had no janitorial staff and didn’t have classes on the second floor because Ye had a phobia of stairs. The man is an absolute lunatic. The song should be called ‘circus’ because you don’t tend to see a lot of clowns at a carnival.

2. Drake – “THE HEART PART 6”

I’ll give Drake some credit—if someone accuses you of being a predator in one of the biggest songs of the year, you have to respond. The issue? His response couldn’t have made him sound more suspicious.

“Only f**kin’ with Whitneys, not Millie Bobby Browns, I’d never look twice at no teenager.”

Why even mention her—the one person caught on video proof seemingly slipping up about your weirdly close relationship? Every time Drake tries to defend himself, it just gets weaker.

“This Epstein angle was the s** I expected / TikTok videos you collected and dissected” *
“If I was f**ing young girls, I promise I’d have been arrested”*
“I’m way too famous for this sh* you just suggested”*

Saying you’re too famous to be part of a child trafficking ring, right after name-dropping Jeffrey Epstein—the man who catered to rich and powerful predators—has got to be one of the most poorly thought-out defenses imaginable. And the disjointed nature of these bars makes me wonder if he had multiple ghostwriters scrambling to craft a rebuttal, only for them to just shove all their ideas in at once with no cohesion.

Oh, and the irony? Drake brings up streaming data in this very song… the same Drake who sued UMG over alleged sales inflation for Kendrick. Funny how much he suddenly cares when the numbers don’t favor him

1. Ice Spice – “Think U The S*** (Fart)”

Oh, where do I even begin? 

First off, the title alone is a masterpiece of lyrical depth. Who wouldn’t want to proudly proclaim that they’re the “fart” in the equation? Truly groundbreaking. And, of course, the chorus: “Think you the sh**, b****? You not even the fart.”

It’s almost as if Ice Spice is telling us she’s too good for basic insults. Instead, she’s like, “I’m not calling you garbage; I’m calling you… flatulence.” Real subtle. The wordplay? Genius. Really, who needs complex metaphors or clever punchlines when you can reduce everything to bodily functions? It’s like she’s trying to turn rap into the most juvenile version of itself, but hey, at least it’s catchy, right? 

Although, calling this number one material is honestly baffling. A fart joke? And let’s talk about the production: a minimalist beat with the vocal delivery that can only be described as “so nonchalant it’s practically asleep.” It’s as if Ice Spice didn’t even bother trying to make an effort but still ended up topping charts. Now that’s a flex… but not in the way you’d expect. 

So, yeah, it’s awful. But I guess, when you can convince the masses that fart jokes and lazily thrown-together rhymes are the height of musical art, you’ve truly achieved something… or maybe we’ve all just collectively lost our minds.

Chude Uzoka-Anofienem, Staff Writer

5. Kendrick Lamar – “Not Like Us”

Kendrick Lamar’s “Not Like Us” is more than just a song—it’s a cultural moment, an undeniable statement that redefines what it means to clash in the rap game. The track’s intensity comes from Kendrick’s ability to address beef head-on while weaving it into a broader narrative about dominance in hip-hop. The song is rooted in a deep sense of rivalry, calling out an unnamed target with sharp, deliberate lines. But it’s not just about throwing shade; it’s about Kendrick positioning himself as the one who’s standing tall and confident in his spot at the top. 

The beef with Drake looms large over this track, and it’s clear that Kendrick is taking shots that are both personal and public. When he says, “Say, Drake, I hear you like ‘em young,” it’s not just a throwaway line—it’s an attack on Drake’s past controversies, particularly his alleged predilection for younger women. Kendrick doesn’t shy away from addressing issues head-on, making sure that every jab lands with precision. 

The reference to “cell block one” is a pointed reminder of the drama and the accusations that have dogged Drake, something Kendrick is all too willing to bring into the conversation. This isn’t just about beef for the sake of beef, though. Kendrick’s verses serve as a commentary on the state of rap, making it clear that while others may get bogged down in the drama, he’s focused on the bigger picture. There’s a certain arrogance in Kendrick’s delivery, but it’s earned arrogance, based on a legacy he’s spent years building.

The underlying power of “Not Like Us” is that it frames this beef as more than just a personal conflict—it’s about hip-hop culture itself. Kendrick’s delivery on this track is a testament to how he’s not just a player in the game, but a force that shapes the rules. He’s calling out his competitors, but in doing so, he elevates the entire genre. Kendrick’s confrontation with Drake isn’t just a one-on-one—it’s a broader commentary on what it means to be a true artist in a saturated industry.

It’s the kind of song that’ll be remembered long after the beef fades into history, a snapshot of a pivotal moment in the evolution of hip-hop. This might’ve been the song of the year, or maybe next year after the Super Bowl performance. Also, I love that Drake was making fun of Kendrick for having no bangers, only for Kendrick to drop an album of bangers that tied Drake’s commercial records and had a meme bigger than anything Drake has had in years. Let that sink in.

4. Shaboozey – “A Bar Song (Tipsy)”

The success of a track like “A Bar Song (Tipsy)” feels like a perfect example of how an artist can blend genres in ways that feel fresh and authentic. It’s hard not to draw parallels to other genre-bending moments, like when Lil Nas X first made waves. But even though Shaboozey’s trajectory might not have been as initially explosive, it still feels just as important. 

The odds may not be in his favor for another crossover hit, and it’s a tough pill to swallow considering how deserving he is of more recognition. His breakout album this year was excellent, and it’s frustrating that it didn’t get the attention it deserved from a broader audience. If there’s any silver lining, it’s that his music is still gaining traction, even if it’s within smaller circles. 

Tracks like “Good News” are starting to catch on, and if that momentum builds, there’s still a chance Shaboozey could have another moment. The fact that his label situation seems complicated is unfortunate because his sound and style should have made him a household name by now. The combination of country and rap, especially on “A Bar Song (Tipsy),” could have been a novelty, but Shaboozey managed to turn it into something more. 

His take on J-Kwon’s “Tipsy” was nostalgic, but with a twist that didn’t feel like a gimmick. The country spin with fiddles and live instruments gave it a unique flair, and that’s what made it stand out in a good way. It may have had a little of that Postmodern Jukebox vibe, but that’s not a criticism—it’s an example of genre-blending done right. What makes Shaboozey truly stand out, though, is how much respect he shows for both hip-hop and country. Shaboozey has the potential to be a lasting, positive influence on both genres, even if mainstream success doesn’t always follow the way we hope.

3. Tyler, The Creator ft. GloRilla, Sexyy Redd & Lil Wayne – “Sticky”

Tyler, the Creator’s “Sticky” is a track that perfectly embodies the unpredictable genius of Tyler’s evolution in the rap game. While I never thought I’d be talking about Tyler as a mainstream hitmaker, here we are. And let’s be clear, Tyler’s “Sticky” doesn’t fit the mold of what you’d typically expect from a top 10 radio hit. It’s messy, complex and full of beat changes that, on paper, shouldn’t work, but somehow, Tyler makes it feel seamless. 

The track starts off with GloRilla’s unmistakable energy, and from there, it builds. GloRilla and Sexyy Red bring their A-game, creating an all-star ensemble with Lil Wayne coming through with a verse that reminds you why he’s still one of the best in the game, a veteran whose guest verses feel like clockwork. The whole vibe of “Sticky” is one of carefree chaos, with Tyler pulling off this wild balancing act of blending genres, defying expectations and still creating something that somehow fits into the wider radio landscape. 

Tyler’s line “B****, I am the better me” is like a personal manifesto for an artist who’s been at the top of his game for years now. He’s claiming his space in the rap world and asserting his dominance. And yet, despite that cocky energy, there’s also a hint of self-awareness in it—Tyler knows he’s not just another rapper; he’s a full-on force, a chameleon who can mold his sound to whatever the moment calls for.

Tyler’s evolution as an artist has been something to watch, and with “Sticky,” it feels like he’s finally cracked the formula for a hit song that has everything you love about his style but still appeals to the mainstream. It’s bold, it’s loud and it’s unapologetically Tyler— no wonder it’s become one of the most memorable tracks of the year. “Sticky” isn’t just a radio-friendly banger; it’s a declaration of Tyler’s place in the rap game, and it feels like the culmination of everything he’s worked towards, culminating in a track that’s impossible to ignore.

2. Kendrick Lamar – “euphoria” 

Sure, “Not Like Us” was what the culture was feeling, and it made for one hell of a party; but it’s the kind of party that leaves a weird feeling in my gut afterward. “Meet the Grahams” falls into a similar category for me—it has some of the most brutal moments of the entire beef, especially in the final verse, but the third verse hasn’t aged as well. Since it wasn’t technically a hit, it doesn’t qualify, and even though I respect how dark and replayable it is, it’s on the fence. But  “euphoria?” That’s a different story. 

This was the Kendrick Lamar diss I was waiting for—proof that when he steps up, he doesn’t just deliver, he dominates. He tore through his opponent without sacrificing an ounce of artistic precision. Cardo’s production is masterful, from the Teddy Pendergrass sample that kicks things off to the bold horns in the second half, all the way to that menacing beat switch that slams down like a hammer. And lyrically? This is the first rap song in years that I’ve memorized start to finish, which says a lot. The entire beef had its share of iconic moments, but “euphoria” was different—it felt powerful, sharp and undeniable. 

Kendrick packed it with quotable lines, showcased his razor-sharp wit and delivered the kind of intensity that made people rethink what a diss track could be. It was a reminder that battle rap isn’t just about skill—it’s about strategy, presence and knowing when to strike. And as someone who believes that technical ability alone isn’t enough to win a rap feud, seeing Kendrick go to war and prove every doubter wrong was exhilarating.

I could go on for hours about the layered punchlines, triple meanings and the battle rap finesse on display. And that’s not even getting into the street references—though as a Toronto resident, I know better than to spell those out. But the moment I really knew “euphoria” had shifted the culture? The night after it dropped, I went to karaoke, and someone picked a Drake song. The DJ immediately started roasting them, calling out “euphoria,” and the entire room laughed. I watched the shift happen in real time, and that’s something we might never see again. If there’s one diss track that deserves to be in the hall of fame, it’s “euphoria” —and it was so close to being my favorite hit of 2024.

1. Vince Staples – “Étouffée”

If I had to pick a number one favorite, it would be something from Vince Staples… but Étouffée is on another level. It’s the kind of song where I get why it wasn’t a mainstream crossover hit, but it still feels wrong that it wasn’t. The beat is stripped-down and ominous, built around a sparse knock and eerie synth wobbles, setting the stage after the sound of barking dogs and what could be either fireworks or gunshots—the fact that you can’t tell the difference is part of the point. 

Then it all locks into a killer groove, with a hook that grabs you instantly and only gets more addictive the more you hear it—whether it’s summer or winter, because Vince’s music transcends seasons, even with the New Orleans bounce breakdown near the end.

It’s a dark track, unsettling in a way that feels both personal and eerily prophetic. It’s deeply rooted in place, immersed in an environment filled with violence, yet it’s home—Vince knows exactly what he can and can’t change. The line “finding beauty in the darkness like Rembrandt” is one of those classical art references that hit you with the realization that Vince is almost always the smartest guy in the room, even when he keeps things understated. 

And while the song has a celebratory energy, danger lurks around every corner. He knows he could’ve easily ended up on a t-shirt, just another lost name, but he also sees the bigger systemic nightmare. One of the most striking lines is “the ghetto is a mismatch”—he loves the trap that raised him, but living there is as bleak as the hell he fears he’s bound for, especially when corporate interests profit from it while never actually understanding it. 

His label never got Big Fish Theory, but Vince stuck to his vision… at least until the system inevitably comes to tear it all down. There’s a metatextual edge to it too—Vince has always mocked the white fans who show up to his concerts without ever grasping the deeper layers of the oppression they’re complicit in. Still, he knows what it takes to survive. “Riding the stick like witchcraft” is a ridiculously clever bar, especially within the album’s themes of women and how the history of witch persecution is deeply tied to racist oppression. 

But the bigger question he poses is: when this reality starts hitting everyone, what are you going to do about it? I’ll admit that in some years, my number one pick felt like an obvious, undeniable choice. This wasn’t one of those years. And yet, in 2024, I couldn’t imagine anything else in this spot.

Sovereign Brown, Staff Writer

As I sat playing with the sand, I saw so many people having fun in the water. Going inside the ocean used to frighten me as a little girl. One day this all changed. Instead of being frightened by the water, I instead never wanted to leave it. I recall my mom having to pick me up after I had thrown a temper tantrum because I had to leave my new found love–the water. Little did I know that this experience was going to turn me into not only a swimmer but shape me into the person I am today.

From a young age, the pool has always been a comfortable environment for me, and looking back, I still feel the same way. I started competitive swimming at the age of 12. Although I was not familiar with the competitive world of swimming, I continued to do meets and in return saw improvements. I lost a year of competitive swimming due to the COVID-19 pandemic and did not get back into competing until my sophomore year. 

My sophomore year everything changed. I lost my cousin who I honestly called my sister and who I was close to. My world crumbled apart, and I no longer had the motivation to swim. I started falling behind, and I would purposely not put all of my effort into practice and meets. I did not get a wake-up call until my coach spoke to me and told me to get it together. Deep down, I knew I could not stop my world because of how much I was grieving. I was passionate about swimming, and although my cousin’s death affected me profoundly, I did what I knew how to do: keep going. 

Whatever tears I needed to cry, I cried along the way, but more importantly, I picked myself up and I did not quit. Being a swimmer has changed my life for the better. It has given me confidence that I lacked, to not only be able to stand up for myself, but to carry myself with respect. Swimming has shown me how strong I truly am and has helped me realize that whenever I am confronted with something difficult, I can conquer it. It has also shown me how determined I am when I set my mind towards something, and most importantly, how I do not give up. Swimming has made me into the person I am today, and who I am today is not who I was three years ago. 

I am confident, outgoing and an incredibly determined woman. Because of my passion for swimming and its deeply profound impact on my life, I knew I wanted to help others have the same skills that I have. For that reason, I decided to become a swim coach. My goal in becoming a coach was to help kids develop confidence within themselves, in and out of the water. While I am aware that my life is not always filled with sunshine and rainbows, the personal skills that I have gained from swimming have allowed me to apply them in my everyday life.