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Saturday, March 15, 2003

Dartmouth takes game 2 behind Stempniak's hat trick

Staring the end of their season squarely in the face after losing in quadruple overtime last night, Dartmouth came back to defeat the (formerly Red) Raiders 3-1 tonight behind the heroics of Lee Stempniak. Stempniak netted all three goals for Dartmouth, including two in the deciding third period to lift the Green to victory and force game 3 tomorrow night. If Dartmouth wins, they will advance to Albany to face the 2nd seeded Crimson from Harvard in the ECAC semifinals. A loss will end their season.

Dartmouth outshot Colgate 34-10 through two periods, but were only able to capitalize on one of them, and headed into the third period tied at one. They outshot Colgate 44-20 for the game. Pete Summerfelt assisted on all three goals, and Mike Ouellette added a pair of assists as well.

Dartmouth's top line of Stempniak, Ouellette, and Hugh Jessiman has taken part in every goal this series. Stempniak has 3 goals and 3 assists, Jessiman has 2 goals, and Ouellette has 4 assists. Top D-Men Trevor Byrne and Summerfelt have the only other points, as Byrne got the other goal and Summerfelt added his 3 assists tonight. Nick Boucher had 19 stops in net to earn the victory, a night after setting the Dartmouth record for most saves in one game with 66 (on 70 shots).

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Game 1 - Colgate 4 @ Dartmouth 3 (4OT) (Thompson Arena - Hanover, NH):
Box Score
Longest NCAA Games

Game 2 - Colgate 1 @ Dartmouth 3 (Thompson Arena - Hanover, NH)
Box Score

Full post and comments below the fold.

Posted by Ben at 10:11 PM (0 comments)

Friday, March 14, 2003

Dartmouth loses 4-3 in 4OT to Colgate

In a game neither team deserved to lose, Dartmouth gave up a goal 1:05 into the 4th overtime to fall to Colgate 4-3 in the best-of-3 series. Total time of the game was 121:05, the third longest in NCAA history, and easily eclipsing last year's 2OT game vs. Colgate as the longest in Dartmouth history.

Dartmouth held one-goal leads thrice, and let Colgate come back to tie each time. Hugh Jessiman got two goals, Lee Stempniak had three assists, and Mike Ouellette had two assists but it wasn't enough.

Game two is tomorrow night at 7 PM at Thompson. Dartmouth needs to win to keep its season alive. Game 3 will be Sunday at 7 if necessary.

Full post and comments below the fold.

Posted by Ben at 11:42 PM (0 comments)

FIRE on O'Reilly

This is just a quick announcement to let you know that FIRE's Thor L. Halvorssen will be a guest on The O'Reilly Factor this evening. The show airs at 8pm EST and again at 11pm EST. Thor will be discussing FIRE's recent -- and widely publicized -- victory at Citrus College, where (among other outrages) a professor forced her students to write anti-war letters to President Bush. Tune in!

Full post and comments below the fold.

Posted by Emmett at 12:36 PM (0 comments)

Thursday, March 13, 2003

Heh

Perhaps I should get a bumper sticker that says, "I'd Rather Be Blogging."

Full post and comments below the fold.

Posted by Emmett at 6:05 PM (0 comments)

Re: Nader Thief...

In re: your question ("Anyway, Emmett, how did FIRE managed [sic] to drop the ball on this one"), please see Clark's post, immediately below this one.

Full post and comments below the fold.

Posted by Emmett at 6:01 PM (0 comments)

Work

is sooo overrated

Full post and comments below the fold.

Posted by Ryan at 3:23 PM (0 comments)

Clark

On top of things as usual. Aren't you supposed to be working, Ryan?

Full post and comments below the fold.

Posted by Christian at 3:21 PM (0 comments)

Re: Nader Thief...

The funny thing (or not so funny) is that this isn't news! Read the article; they've been doing it for years. One Canadian I know (who's a socialist mind; great guy for a beer if any of you pass through Yemen) said that those fees are mandatory at some Canadian universities. I haven't been able to check. Anyway, Emmett, how did FIRE managed to drop the ball on this one?

Full post and comments below the fold.

Posted by Christian at 3:21 PM (0 comments)

Emmett

The Review covered the PIRG issue a couple years back. The plantiff in the case mentioned in the article eventually lost at the Supreme Court.

Full post and comments below the fold.

Posted by Ryan at 3:20 PM (0 comments)

Ralph Nader Is a Thief

Ralph Nader's PIRGs have been siphoning off a portion of student fees from college students. This is as though part of your funds were to go to the ACLU or the RNC. Amazing!

Plus, there's a surprise plug for FIRE's Guides to Student Rights on Campus. So that makes me happy.

Full post and comments below the fold.

Posted by Emmett at 2:49 PM (0 comments)

Wednesday, March 12, 2003

New Guides to Liberty

Yesterday, at a press conference in DC, FIRE celebrated the launch of the FIRE Guides to Student Rights on Campus. In attendance were luminaries from our Board of Advisors for the Guides series, ranging from former Attorney General Ed Meese to ACLU President Nadine Strossen. The five Guides -- three of which have already been published -- will instruct students on their rights, so they can stand up and defend them. As our president, Alan Charles Kors, is fond of saying, "a nation that does not educate in liberty will not long survive in liberty -- and will not even know when it has lost it."

The Guides are:
  • FIRE's Guide to Religious Liberty on Campus
  • FIRE's Guide to Student Fees, Funding, and Legal Equality on Campus
  • FIRE's Guide to Due Process and Fair Procedure on Campus
  • FIRE's Guide to Free Speech on Campus [forthcoming]
  • FIRE's Guide to First-Year Orientation and Thought Reform on Campus [forthcoming]

    Students can download the Guides, in pdf format, at www.thefireguides.org.

    Full post and comments below the fold.

    Posted by Emmett at 12:36 PM (0 comments)

    Same question...

    ...was asked by me a few weeks ago with no response. I'll offer it again with Emmett.

    Full post and comments below the fold.

    Posted by Christian at 10:29 AM (0 comments)

    Trustee Election

    So does anyone have any info on these people? I just got the candidate package in the mail. I'm leaning towards this John Donahoe fellow, but Elyse Benson Allan plays up the whole "liberal arts college" thing. That's encouraging. Any thoughts, anyone?

    Full post and comments below the fold.

    Posted by Emmett at 10:07 AM (0 comments)

    Tuesday, March 11, 2003

    Lionesses

    Well, we're not as bad as Columbia's men's basketball team.

    Full post and comments below the fold.

    Posted by alex at 2:44 AM (0 comments)

    Monday, March 10, 2003

    Making Dartmouth Proud

    Robert Reich '68: Rhodes Scholar, Labor Secretary, Candidate for Democratic nomination for Governor of Massachusetts, nude model

    Full post and comments below the fold.

    Posted by alex at 8:47 PM (0 comments)

    Our own Steven Menashi

    He has the Hoover Institution policy brief thing in the March 24 National Review.
    It's on--what else--academic freedom.
    Check it out.

    Also, the Review gets several mentions in yet another piece on D'Souza's Letters to a Young Conservative later in the issue.

    Full post and comments below the fold.

    Posted by alex at 6:47 PM (0 comments)

    If only Pres. Wright cared so much about Men's Basketball

    St. Bonaventure president resigns; Athletic director and coach placed on leave

    Full post and comments below the fold.

    Posted by alex at 12:30 AM (0 comments)

    "[I]f I didn't know..."

    But we'd agree that part of the problem is that faculty won't admit that they really don't know how students spend their time outside of the classroom.

    Those faculty resolutions to end the Greek system are so very dishonest.

    And students don't feel like being honest because with all the performance reports and action plans, students are tired. Reports are what we do for class, not for administrators interested in our social lives. Playing a pick-up game of basketball with friends should be playing a pick-up game of basketball of friends, not a "non-alcoholic programming event" or "informal engagement."

    Full post and comments below the fold.

    Posted by alex at 12:26 AM (0 comments)

    Sunday, March 09, 2003

    Re: This is long...

    After reading that, if I didn't know that frats are much different now (even from Chris Miller's account from 1989), I'd think twice about defending frats as stenuously as I do.

    Full post and comments below the fold.

    Posted by Emmett at 11:01 PM (0 comments)

    This is long...

    but somehow, I'd never seen this until today.
    _______________________________________

    Chris Miller's Animal House

    Copyright 1989 Information Access Company, a Thomson Corporation Company
    Copyright 1989 Playboy
    Playboy October, 1989

    SECTION: Vol. 36 ; No. 10 ; Pg. 104; ISSN: 0032-1478

    HEADLINE: Return to Animal House; writer of film revisits his old fraternity
    house

    BYLINE: Miller, Chris

    BODY: The man who wrote the movie revisits the scene of the crime-and finds he
    can still boot with the best of them.

    Playboy, October, 1989

    IT's MAGIC MONDAY at the Alpha Delta house and the brothers have been drinking
    since SiX A.M. They have worked their
    way through Sunrise-Service Hour (tequila sunrises), Cartoon Hour (Kool-Aid
    punch) and Lonely-Guy Hour (Thunderbird and
    Mad Dog, straight from the bottle). Now it's ten o'clock, and that means it's .
    . . Naked-inthe-Tube-Room Hour!

    Seventy naked guys cram into the TV room, which is about as large as a small
    one-car garage. Beers are distributed by dick
    size-those with big ones get king cans of Bud; those with small cocks drink
    from shot glasses. The worst, most repellent,
    vile and disgusting porno tape available is popped into the VCR. The brother
    keep checking one another out-anyone who gets a
    hard-on faces rigorous punishment. No one's quite sure what !he punishment
    might be, since in the history of Magic Monday,
    no one has yet gotten a hard-on during Naked-inthe-Tube-Room Hour, but they
    keep checking anyway, just in case.

    There's a knock on the door. It's the delivery guy from the pizza place-he
    steps inside and freezes. Good Lord, what has he
    walked in on here-a bunch of preverts or something? Oddly enough, despite the
    large number of guys present, no one has the
    money to pay for the pizza-because no one has any pockets. On the screen, the
    cast is urinating on one another, sodomizing
    dead animals, all sorts of neat stuff. "If you could wait till the end of this
    sequence," says the guy who made the order, "I'll
    run upstairs and get some money"

    The pizza guy looks around, swallows and says, "Never mind. This one's a
    freebie." He makes the quickest getaway ever
    seen from a Dartmouth fraternity house.

    Magic Monday is a tradition going back at least two decades at the AD house, or
    Adelphian Lodge, as its members
    affectionately call it. The hourly themes proliferate over the year:
    Volleyball-inthe-Living-Room Hour, with Beach Boys
    music and pina coladas; Ex-Athlete Hour, with Schlitz beer (because that's what
    washed-up old athletes drink); Blues Hour,
    when they listen to Elmore James and drink bourbon; Christmas Hour, when they
    chop down a tree, plant it in the living
    room, decorate it with condoms and panties and drink eggnog; and, finally New
    Year's Hour, when they cut the tree up and
    burn it, drink champagne and sing Aued Lang Syne. It's a good time and an
    important annual event.

    The common belief is that the first Magic Monday occurred the day John E
    Kennedy was shot. After all, is a not carved on
    the pillar by the tap system in the basement, NOVEMBER 22, 1963-J.F.K.
    DEAD-EIGHT KEGS? I could tell them different. You
    see, I was there on November 22, 1963. First, it was a Friday, not a Monday,
    and, second, what happened was less a
    celebration of surreality than a wake; though, actually, it was a pretty good
    time. No, the first Magic Monday occurred a
    few years later, when a brother named Don chanced to stay up drinking one
    Sunday night, and in the morning, the brothers
    were so impressed that they blew off classes for the day and joined him. But
    why muddy the underpinnings of a cherished
    Adelphian tradition? Myths are more fun than facts.

    Let me tell you another AD tradition: the Night of the Seven Fires. This is the
    Hell Night that, in one form or another, has
    marked the transition of more than a half century's worth of AD pledges into
    brothers. The early Sixties version: You had
    to hike out to the snowy woods in the middle of the night and find, with the
    aid of a mimeographed map, the Seven Sacred
    Watch Fires. At each of these would be a complement of brothers waiting to
    demand demented acts of you. You had to drop
    trou and sit in the snow, consume impossible quantities of beer and wine and
    vomit repeatedly, sometimes on one another.

    It was one of the greatest nights of my life.

    This is difficult for some people to understand. Fraternity high-jinks are a
    most particular form of behavior and are
    regarded with neither sympathy nor affection by much of the world, especially
    mothers, police officers, campus
    administrators and other societal voices of moderation and control. It's hard
    to explain to those who have missed the
    fraternity experience how richly satisfying mooning or booting (thats Dart-talk
    for recreational vomiting) or eating your
    underwear can be. People just don't get it.

    Which is why about ten years after graduating, I decided to write a book about
    fraternity life in which I would present
    America with the straight skinny-the reverse value systems, the fascination
    with the repugnant, the cheerful flouting of
    authority The book never found a publisher, but portions of it, converted to
    short stories, appeared in National Lampoon,
    where their popularity prompted editor Doug Kenney to propose that he, Harold
    Ramis and I write a movie based on them.
    The movie was Animal House.

    Now, I'm aware that a lot of people thought that Delta Tau Chi in Animal House
    was somehow based on their fraternity
    Sorry guys-now it can be told-the house that launched the legend was AD at
    Dartmouth. And although, to the best of my
    recollection, no one at Dartmouth ever put Fizzies in the swimming pool or
    offed a horse in the dean's office, someone did
    once boot on the dean (and his wife), and there was, in a house today known as
    the Tabard, a mermaid with goldfish-bowl
    breasts, and, in the AD house, there were guys named Otter, Mounder and Pinto,
    and a 'Sex Room," and numerous black
    R&B bands that played Shout and Louie, Louie. There was also a guy named
    Turnip, who placed a phone call to a dead
    Smithie, identifying himself as her boyfriend. Unlike Otter in the movie, he
    didn't get himself and his fellow road-trippers
    dates with her roommate and friends. In fact, that idea had never occurred to
    Turnip-he'd made the call out of sheer joy of
    sickness.

    "Sickness Is Health, Blackness Is Truth, Drinking Is Strength." That was the
    house creed, and we tried to live up to it.
    Pledges were taught power booting. if you drank enough beer and jumped up and
    down a few times, it was no big deal to boot
    your height-the trick was in keeping a tight stream and hitting the target, a
    photo of Connie Francis, say, tacked to the
    basement wall. There was a fellow who used to snooze atop the bar, naked but
    for a beer cup over his dong. When a lady
    would enter the basement, he would tip his cup. We built lewd snow statues, got
    laid in a hearse parked out back, pledged a
    dead raccoon and once mooned the governor of New Hampshire. We had fun.

    But how much fun, I wondered, were they having up at Dartmouth today? After
    all, it was the Eighties now, the era of
    AIDS, religious fundamentalism and the conservative backlash against the
    indulgent Sixties and Seventies. What was more,
    to those of us alumni who followed the news out of Dartmouth, it often seemed
    as if the college had declared war on its
    fraternity system.

    The opening gun was firects in 1978. An English professor, James A. Epperson,
    circulated a petition among the faculty to
    have fraternities abolished for "interfering with college life and the health
    and well-being of students." The real stunner
    came when the faculty voted 67-16 in favor of the proposal. Obviously, there
    was serious resentment harbored against the
    fraternities at Dartmouth.

    To a degree, fraternities were under serious scrutiny nationwide. College
    faculties had always tended to view them as
    elitist, sexist, racist, anti-intellectual and overly involved with alcohol.
    Now, in the Eighties, with their ranks swelled with
    veterans of the Sixties-who by arid large hated &aternities-they were on the
    attack. At many schools, especially the
    smaller, private ones in the Northeast, boards of trustees formed study
    committees. In 1983, Amherst and Colby abolished
    fraternities outright. Gettysburg came close to doing the same, and at
    Middlebury, there's a continuing controversy over
    the fate of their fratemity system. Indeed, aspects of Greek fife have been
    under some form of study at approximately a
    third of the 650 colleges where fraternities exist.

    At the same time, though, fraternities have never been more popular. On the
    rebound from their Vietnam-era doldrums,
    undergraduate fraternities grew in membership from 230,000 in 1980 to more than
    400,000 in 1986. This was widely
    regarded as a reflection of the return to establishment values and conservatism
    on campus, though it may have had more to
    do with the resurgent desire of college men to raise hell and have fun with
    their buddies, which, after all, is what
    &aternities are all about. In any case, it seems unlikely that larger schools,
    such as USC or the University of Illinois, will
    ever do away with them-they're simply too popular among both students and
    alumni.

    Meanwhile, back at Dartmouth, the proposal to abolish the houses was ultimately
    voted down by the board of trustees, but
    there did ensue a period of crackdown that resulted in many houses, being put
    on probation and given shapeup-or-ship-out
    ultimatums. Then, in' 1983, came the instituting of "minimum standards" for
    fraternities and sororities. Since this program
    called for, among other things, expensive renovations to the deteriorating
    houses, most of which had been built in the
    Twenties, .it was widely perceived as an attempt to do away with the
    fraternities by breaking them financially

    Then, in 1987, the board of trustees released a Residential Life Statement
    calling for a reduction in the fraternity system's
    dominance of social life on campus, and shortly after that, the Hanover police
    conducted their notorious undercover sting
    operation, deputizing an 18-year-old girl and sending her, with an out-of-town
    policeman posing as her boyfriend, on a
    round of fraternities during the big spring party weekend known as Green Key.
    Naturally, she was served beer, and eight
    fraternities and two sororities faced the possibility of criminal charges for
    serving alcohol to a minor The college got them
    off the hook, but it made it dear that next time, the houses would be on their
    own. This had a chilling effect on the admission
    of nonmember guests to parties.

    Finally, in 1988, the administration announced that starting with the class of
    1993, rush would be delayed until sophomore
    year. Since this would decrease fraternity membership-and their already pinched
    treasuries-by 25 percent, there was
    bitter resistance to the measure, all the more so because it was a dictate from
    on high that ignored heavy student
    opposition.

    After all this, you had to wonder if fraternity life at Dartmouth was any fun
    at all any more. Specifically, I was curious to
    see how the boys were doing at the house that had inspired Animal House. I
    decided to find out.

    I enter the lodge with trepidation. What am I going to find, 25 years and all
    those regulatory institutions later? A skeleton
    crew of intimidated weenies, sipping oolong and discussing Proust?

    But no. The first thing that hits me is the smell. It's the same smell; it
    hasn't changed in two and a half decades! Mainly
    beer, with certain miscellaneous nuances. The place looks pretty much the same,
    too. A bit more wre cked-up, maybe, but
    it's the same tube room, the same tap system and, running the perimeter of the
    basement, the same beloved AD gutter
    (today known as "the gorf"). In the erstwhile basement bathroom-converted to a
    broom closet a few years back after a
    brother tore out the toilet to mix a punch in it-I can still make out the
    carved names of brothers from my era: Y BAGS,
    LAPES, SNOT, MAG F PIE, HYDRANT, DUMP TRUCK. . . .

    Having recently concluded a very successful rush, the house has nearly 100
    members, and it looks as though most of them
    are here tonight. They seem a little cool; I wonder if I'm welcome. Or maybe
    ies just a generational style-they don't make a
    big deal of things. There are so many of them, though, more than twice the
    number we had ! The living room is like a subway
    car! And, God, how'd they get to be so young?

    I have brought with me, ,on video cassette, an assemblage of eight-millimeter
    movies taken back in my era. As I show the
    old flicks-glimpses of forgotten snow statues, of the brothers cavorting on the
    lawn, of parties and our great perennial R&B
    band Lonnie Youngblood and the Redcoats-pledges are periodically sent to "run a
    rack." They return with lengths of plank
    covered with brimming beer cups, so that the brothers may indulge their taste
    for malt beverage. As the tape proceeds, the
    crowd especially appreciates the sequence in which several old ADs eat the
    shirt of Bert Rowley, '61, off his back. When
    the show concludes, they signify their appreciation with a round of snaps and
    sing a friendly (albeit obscene) song to me.
    Then one of them hands me a full 12-ounce beer cup, and I see all these faces
    looking at me with expectation.

    Good God, I think, can I still chug one of these things? Well, it takes a
    little longer than it used to, but, yes, I can! All
    rightstill got my chops! The ADs cheer, the ice is broken. We repair to the
    basement, where fine music is played,
    multifarious brews are demolished and laughter fills the room. Sometimes, it
    occurs to me, despite the passage of much
    time, the essence of things remains the same.

    I stay at Dartmouth for ten days. I check out the sororities, the coed houses
    and, in addition to Alpha Delta, several
    "mainstream" houses. I go to parties, drink off kegs, hang out in small groups
    in &aternity rooms, doing a little herb and
    getting philosophical. I find out two things.

    First, fraternity life at Dartmouth is a lot more complicated than it used to
    be. Parties must be registered; you have to fill
    out a form at the campus police station before five P.M. on weekdays and noon
    on weekends. Since a party is defined as any
    time you go on tap, that means that you can no longer drink a keg without
    registering with the police. Furthermore, since
    the sting operation, the houses have had to post guards at all entrances to
    their tap rooms during parties to check I.D.s and
    make sure no underage nonmembers slip in. In addition, house presidents and
    social chairmen, aware that they risk $
    25,000 fines and even jail sentences if persons drunk on their beer crack up a
    car, say, take great care to prevent such
    drunks from departing, at least with their car keys. Meanwhile, there's the
    ongoing paranoia that Dean Wormer-like
    authority figures are out to get them, that any time now, fraternity life as
    they know it will be banished forever, the way
    the samurai were abolished in Japan in the 1870s.

    That's a pretty tough row to hoe, compared with the relatively laissez-faire
    early Sixties. But the second thing I notice is
    that, despite the many modern complications, the peculiar Dartmouth genius for
    having fun is undiminished. And although
    much is different at the Big Green, what's more interesting is how much has
    stayed the same.

    Take the AD house. We had nicknames, they have nicknames; the house currently
    contains the likes of Goon, Chubber, Turd,
    Hedgehog, Cowpie, Merkin, Mule, Gator and, in a nice link with the past, a new
    Snot. We had a house lexicon; they have a
    house lexicon, In 1962, we invested much of our neologistical energy on
    descriptives for throwing up-there was "power
    booting," "spray booting," "nose booting," "sick booting" and the "Technicolor
    yawn," the last of these resulting from the
    preboot consumption of food colorings. We also spoke of "wind tunnels" (when
    your date breaks wind while your head's up
    her skirt), "reltneys" (hard-ons so big they stretch your skin until your head
    flips backward) and "hooded hogs"
    (uncircumcised penises). The current ADs have two great terms for an
    uncircumcised penis"turtleneck" and "covered
    wagon." Also from today's vocabulary: Dorky people are known as "lunch meats."
    Drinking is "hooking." "Sweet!" is an
    expression of approval. ("Hey, we just went on tap." "Sweet!") Smoking a bong
    is "pulling a tube." Doing mushroom is
    "'Shrooming." A "chode" is a dick that's wider than it is long. "Piling" and
    "strapping" are fucking. And a "spank sock" is the
    thing you keep by your bed to beat off into.

    We did weird things to our pledges; they do weird things to their pledges. In
    my day, as a sort of nod to AD's past (it
    started life in 1843 as a literary society), the pledges had to compose and
    present papers to the brothers with titles such
    as "My Sensations at Birth" and "How to Use Afterbirth in a Garden Salad."
    After one fellow-Seal-left a notebook containing
    his pledge paper ("The Last Time I Sucked My Father's Cock") at Smith, ere it
    into the hands of the dean, we got in a bit of
    trouble and the practice was discontinued. And then, of course, there was boot
    training and the Night of the Seven Fires.

    These days, the pledge period is shorter than it used to be but correspondingly
    more intense. The threatened punishment for
    pledging infractions is the "Rack of Gnarl"-as many as a dozen 12-ounce cups
    containing a mixture of catsup, soy sauce, dog
    food, mouthwash and whatever other unappetizing liquid or semiliquid substances
    happen to be on hand. You're supposed to
    drink every cup and, sorry, it's bad form to boot too soon.

    One thing you must know for this next pledging story-the ADs have always been
    big on dogs. It's still true today In the
    current Alpha Delta composite, there are pictures of no fewer than four of
    them, including one that's deceased. So, OK; one
    of the current pledging practices is that if the pledges can take over the
    house and prevent a single brother from coming
    inside for 24 hours, they don't have to go through Hell Night. Well, a few
    years ago, the pledges managed to take over the
    house, throw out the brothers and actually held the place for 12 hours. The
    brothers were getting worried. No pledge class
    had ever pulled off what that one seemed on the way to pulling off; how would
    the brothers ever live it down? Then one of
    them had an idea. They grabbed one of the house dogs, taped him up, wrapped him
    in a rug and hurled him through a
    living-room window. That was it-the takeover was ended, the pledges had to go
    through an even worse Hell Night than usual
    to compensate for the inconvenience they'd caused everyone. For, you see, in
    AD, the dogs are considered brothers.

    There are some interesting hazing stunts at other houses, too. One &aternity
    drops its pledges a few miles out of town,
    naked, with an ax. The point is to get back to campus. Ever try hitchhiking
    naked with an ax? The pledges of another
    fraternity must participate in an event called Boot-on-Your-Brother Night. The
    kicker is, you can't change your clothes for
    24 hours afterward; you have to wear them to bed, to class, to meals. . . .

    A last pledging story: Some brothers in one house drove a pledge to New York
    City divested him of his clothes and money
    and left him there to make his way back to Hanover The pledge found a dime in
    the street and called the Dartmouth Club,
    where he made contact with a sympathetic alum who'd been through some of the
    same shit himself The guy set the pledge up
    with fine new clothes and plenty of bucks, the pledge flew back to Dartmouth,
    and when the exhausted brothers finally made
    their return to the fraternity, they found the pledge, resplendent in his new
    duds, waiting on the front porch with a glass of
    champagne for each of them.

    Of course, one thing about Dartmouth that is different today is that between
    then and now, the Sixties happened. And so
    now, in addition to the standard types from my day-stoic jock, cool stud,
    conservative zealot-you have introspective
    hippies, crazed psychedelic pranksters and firebreathing radicals. You tend to
    find these folks, when they join a Greek
    society at all, in a couple of the coed houses, where they believe that, rather
    than changing members to fit the house, you
    change the house to fit the members. You also dispense with a lot of the hazing
    and hierarchy-things are more communal.
    You are also, by definition, nonsexist. But what I love about these folks is
    that although they're Sixties, they're Dartmouth,
    too. Each year, one of these houses holds something called a Decadent
    Decathlon, which includes 12 events: Keg Throwing
    for Distance, the Tap Suck, and so forth. One of the events perfectly
    symbolizes the Dartmouth-Sixties fusion-the Bong
    Chug. In this event, you must take a full hit from a bong, chug a beer, and
    only then do you get to exhale.

    There are other differences. Although there are three fraternities and two
    sororities that are predominantly black, the
    mainstream houses seem genuinely unconcerned about their racial or ethnic
    composition, which is a nice change from my
    day. The AD house has black brothers, Hispanic brothers, Jewish brothers, even
    a Moslem brother It's not a big deal.

    Also not a big deal is sex. I mean, they like it and everything, but it's more
    or less taken for granted. There were stories
    about getting laid on a pool table, and in the 1902 Room at Baker Library and
    even in bed, but, as I say, these were no big
    deal. In the early Sixties, of course, sex was a very big deal. But that was
    before coeducation and the sexual revolution.
    With greater availability comes a blast attitude, I suppose. But it's odd how
    things turn around-in 1962, as far as the deans
    were concerned, drinking was no big deal, but if you and your date were caught
    with your pants down, you were in deep
    shit. Today, they couldn't care less what you do sexually, as long as it's
    consensual and you're being careful about AIDS-but
    drinking infractions can get you in serious trouble.

    One thing that definitely has not changed is the high quality of partying at
    Dartmouth fraternities. In the early Sixties,
    parties were mainly free-form, though I do remember Phi Gamma's Fiji Islands
    Parties and a real good End-of-theWorld
    Party during the Cuban Missile Crisis. Strange alcoholic concoctions with names
    such as fogcutters, or gin and juice, or
    purple Jesus punch were served, and people got even more blown out than usual.

    The AD house, it was generally conceded, threw the best parties. We introduced
    R&B music to campus with such luminaries
    as the Flamingos, the Five Royales, Red Prysock, joey Dee and the Starliters,
    the Crystals, and Little Anthony and the
    Imperials. And the brothers put on behavior displays that foresaw performance
    art by two decades. The moment in Animal
    House when John Belushi pours mustard on himself was inspired by Seal-the
    fellow whose pledge paper so amused the dean
    of Smith-who at one party covered himself with yellow mustard and crawled about
    on hands and knees on the dance floor,
    biting dates' asses and shouting, "I'm the Mustard Man, I'm the goddamned
    Mustard Man." Another time, Doberman or Dump
    Truck or Troll or someone skied down the stairs naked, just as the band went
    into Shout.

    Nowadays, theme parties are the rage. One house has something called the Party
    Without a Cause; everyone dresses as
    James Dean and Natalie Wood. Theta Delta Chi throws a Louie Lobster Party,
    wherein the guys wear lobster costumes, and
    there's a live lobster crawling around in the punch. Gods and Goddesses,
    another Theta Dolt party, involves everyone
    dressing as Zeus or Aphrodite-it's basically a toga party SAE is known for its
    annual Saigon Party (recently renamed
    Welcome to the jungle), in which the house is filled with trees and live
    monkeys. And Alpha Chi Alpha throws Beach Parties,
    for which vast quantities of sand are trucked in and dumped all over the house.

    The Medieval Banquet, a joint party thrown most years by the Alpha Chis and
    Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority started life as a
    Fifties Party, but one year the guys showed up dressed in the fashion of 1050,
    and it stayed that way; the celebrants go as
    wenches, serfs, knights, and so forth, sit around big tables and eat with their
    hands. King Arthur and Guinevere order
    people to chug and the party always turns inw a huge food fight, with tankards
    of ale poured on people's heads, roast
    turkeys flying through the air and everyone soaked and ripped to the gills by
    9:30.

    Now, at the AD house, they're not too big on theme parties. The more usual
    thing is get a deejay, invite a bunch of people
    over, order a lot of kegs and see what happens. But each spring, during Green
    Key Weekend. . . .

    Saturday, my last day; tomorrow it's back to the freeways and smog and
    mortgages and the diaper changings of real life.
    Turns out the ADs have their major annual party this afternoon on the front
    lawn. They have this terrific funk band on the
    porch, wailing away, and the yard is packed with partyers. But I'm not
    dancing-I'm feeling grumpy about having to go home
    tomorrow and, hell, a little burned out from trying to keep up with these
    20-year-olds all week.

    Thanks to last nights killer rain, much of the yard is a mud puddle today.
    After a while, predictably enough, the brothers
    decide to do a little mud diving. In fact, half the guys in the house quickly
    join in, as do many of the dates and friends and
    onlookers, and suddenly, it looks like Retum of the Mud Monsters out there. And
    then-uh-oh-I spot seven or eight beslimed
    pledges headed straight for me with crazed, demented smiles.

    Well, I don't feel like going in any mud, that's for sure. Later for that,
    jack. I put on my most persuasive smile. "Come on,
    you guys, let's just forget it, OK?" They blithely ignore me; I barely have
    time to toss my wallet and shades to my amused
    wife (who has been egging them on), and then I'm being carried across the yard
    by all these guys-Donk and Oddjob and Mulch
    and Scurvy and Snot II and Toast and Remus and Spock-and they find a
    particularly juicy mudhole . . . and plop me into it!

    And-whaddaya know? -it's great! Suddenly, I'm not tired and I'm not grumpy-it's
    as if I've just had a burst of adrenaline.
    And, man, I'm dancing my ass off, exchanging high fives and whooping like a
    maniac, and it all comes back, that total party
    feeling, where time is suspended and you're in an eternal, fun-filled now. This
    is it-the thing people join fraternities for-one
    of those peak bacchanalian moments that know no equal. My sense of closeness
    and connection with these boogieing mud
    maniacs could not be greater, and I feel more in touch with the me I like most
    than I have in months.

    Ah, fraternities. Sweet.

    Full post and comments below the fold.

    Posted by alex at 8:20 PM (0 comments)

    Extra Credit

    Why didn't our professors think of this?

    Full post and comments below the fold.

    Posted by alex at 12:10 PM (0 comments)