Study on Colgate Frats Published in American Architecture Review
March 17, 2018 by Leave a Comment
HAMILTON, NY — The unique style of architectural design known collectively as “frarchitecture” was recently recognized in a study published in the journal of American Architecture as a distinct style of contemporary American architectural design, referencing multiple pieces of real estate built by so-called “frarchitects” at Colgate University in Hamilton, New York as prime examples of this new, truly unique style of postmodernist design.
“I am shocked and appalled by the design choices made by the drunken buffoons who designed this place,” said Thomas Jordanson, describing the fraternity house of Delta Upsilon. “It was as if someone made as many weird size rooms as possible, and stuck the staircase in the most inconvenient place, with the single-minded intention of making the place confusing and unintuitive. The basement was even stranger. The ‘brothers’ room is way too accessible and obvious.”
“After touring DU, I thought that I had seen the worst, but then I entered Phi Kappa Tau. The basement was particularly strange, with its weird wall art and hole in the middle of the floor. Furthermore, the rooms were arranged in a strange maze, with random doors connecting them,” stated Jordanson in his study, “the house known as ‘Tach’ seemed to be the most normal, but these houses set the lowest bar possible.”
Jordanson published his study on Frarchitecture to critical acclaim from similarly disgusted architects, all of whom have actual qualifications. Upon being asked for a comment on the Swamp, Jordanson claimed that if he ever saw it again, he would “literally puke.”
The DU Diet, Featuring Meat McMash
March 17, 2018 by Leave a Comment
HAMILTON, NY — Local DU brother and totally-not-made-up stereotype Meat McMash (6’9”, 400 lbs) has offered to give the Monthly Rag an insider scoop on how to get as swole as possible while also dedicating your time to chugging as much Keystone as your body could handle:
MONDAY, WEDNESDAY, FRIDAY
12:00PM — Meat starts his day, missing two of his classes already. He then waddles down to the kitchen and prepares himself his superfood of choice: two handfuls of shredded beef soaked in blue Gatorade. This snack will last him until class.
12:20PM — Meat makes it to his class with another one of his concoctions: roughly four beers mixed with two handfuls of Extreme Milk Chocolate Gold Standard 100% Whey. This lets him get his buzz on early while still bulking.
1:30PM — Meat heads over to the gym and lifts for the next 7 hours, consuming his dinner of spaghetti and more beer-whey in between his deadlifts.
9:00PM — Meat begins to gear up for some absolute ragers, consuming inhuman amounts of Gatorade beef and spaghetti. He washes down his meal with a rack of Keystone.
10:00PM — Meat walks into the party fashionably late with his emergency calories of Gatorade beef and spaghetti packed neatly into his Superman lunchbox. He eats his rations throughout the night, intermittently slamming his face into a few brewchachos and some fat lines of whey.
7:15AM — Meat finally leaves the party as the last man alive, proving himself the alpha male. At this point, he has consumed roughly 23,568 calories.
TUESDAY, THURSDAY
4:00PM — Meat starts his day a bit late, stirring from his sleep to grab some more beef before realizing he’s missed his fourth class.
5:00PM — Meat heads to the gym, shifting his focus from glutes for the sloots to work his tree trunk-sized arms. He bench-presses for the next 7 hours, gorging on what he dubs his “swole-juice”: 8 parts Keystone to 4 parts blue Gatorade to 3 parts whey with an added 1 cup of assorted nuts and 2 raw eggs.
12:00AM — Meat stays up for an extra 2 hours catching up on missed calories by consuming an absolute fuckton of spaghetti.
2:00AM — Meat finally falls asleep after marathoning his high-school football highlight reel, finishing the day with roughly 25,086 calories.
Overall, Meat finishes his week with roughly 120,876 calories, putting him at the average for about three fully-grown lions combined. Meat broke down into tears when asked why he ate so much food, explaining through his sudden sobs, “I eat because the world wants me to… I have a stereotype to uphold — a dumb, muscular meathead… Do you think I wanna fail the fuck out? Do you think I want a 2.02 GPA? This is all I have. This is all I’ll ever be.”
Meat looked into his mirror, gazing emptily into his giant fucking arms, crying silently.
“At least I’m fuckin’ shredded, bro. I’m fuckin’ jacked.”
Lack of Cubicles Leaves Students Desperate on Sundays
March 17, 2018 by Leave a Comment
HAMILTON, NY — Colgate students have resorted to extreme measures to ensure they have cubicles during the library rush on Sundays. With half of the semester over, classes ramp up and the amount and intensity of work grows exponentially, making quality work spaces even more necessary and putting a strain on this scarce resource.
Research suggests the cubicle shortage is compounded by the bizarre usage patterns that scientists believe are related to the “Fraturday Phenomenon.” Early phase studies are showing that no matter how much work any given student has during a week, there is only a 0.01 percent chance that they will pass on fraturday, essentially always choosing to drink themselves into oblivion during the day, requiring that after they wake up hungover on Sunday morning they spend all day in the library doing the work they should have spread out over a few days. Empirical evidence to support these findings are quotes from students including the likes of, “I didn’t come here to play school,” “I’m gonna still be drunk in the lib tomorrow,” “fraturdays are for the boys,” and, “this is a work-hard-play-hard school,” which is actually a statement tour guides are required to say by the Office of Admission. Students have begun to adapt to this cycle, internalizing the understanding that if they show up to the library after 11 AM they can go fuck themselves because there are absolutely no seats anywhere in the lib.
A few desperate students have begun showing up to the library shit faced after fraturday to put their books in cubicles to hold their spots. “It’s honestly very effective, as long as the librarians don’t evict you from the lib for public intoxication when you’re putting stuff down,” commented junior Brad McChad, “also, if you wake up at like 4PM on Sunday I’d put money on some bitch ass has probably already moved your shit.” Others not as willing as Brad to take the risk of losing their spot to a bitch ass sleepover in the Flex Room, so they can be the first ones through the doors on Sunday morning. Some have taken this concept and monetizing, providing their cubicle stakeout services for a fee, which is remarkably, and unsurprisingly, popular amongst the students who bribed their way into Colgate. “I honestly see it as putting daddy’s money to good use, because I get my favorite cubicle on the fourth floor and someone less fortunate has money to do whatever it is poor people do with money,” sophomore Elizabeth Walderf commented to the Rag.
Even after a student has secured a cubicle on Sunday, abandoning his post is a dangerous game. “I really fucked up. I left two of my textbooks at home and the midterms were literally the next day. I couldn’t risk someone swooping my cube while I was gone; I had no choice,” said Jake Jakobs. “I had to mark my territory.” And in case the fraturday punch killed one too many of your brain cells, we’ll put it plain terms: he peed on his cubicle so no one else would take it.
It seems like this cubicle crisis could be solved by the school providing more cubicles, or even just more decent study spaces outside of the library. But since Colgate has never reasonably responded to the needs of its students, the Rag will continue to report on the escalating craziness and desperation of students looking to write 12 page papers hungover and tweaking on adderall.
The Colgate Connoisseurs: Hamilton’s Sexy Sommeliers
March 17, 2018 by Leave a Comment
HAMILTON, NY — Picture this: you’re chilling in the Hamilton Eatery with the broskis, unhinging your jaw like a snake to just inhale a Big Willy and you want something to drink. But you’re sick of soda and iced tea. You reach for a Keystone, but a hand stops you. It’s attached to a member of the Colgate Connoisseurs wine tasting club. He hands you a glass of Nicolas Pinot Noir from Vin de Pays, France from 2008. Mmm, a good year. He tells you that there are notes of roasted fruits, leather, and clove which create a subtle, yet robust flavor, and you listen to his smooth voice like an erotic ASMR video.
Starting with a small loan of a million dollars, the Colgate Connoisseurs began their sommelier journey by sipping Franzia Rosé boxed wine. The club posted wine review videos on YouTube; they amassed over 20,000 subscribers with video content like “Cabernet Sauvignon (Review) (Tasting) (GONE SEXUAL)” and “WE DRINK PROSECCO IN FRONT OF THE COPS!!! (18+).” After receiving attention and fame across all of the Colgate campus, more and more students joined, and with more funding, they finally were able to take a trip to wine country, France. When the Colgate Connoisseurs returned to Hamilton, they were donning baguettes, berets, and a metric shit-ton of Chardonnay.
Just this past week, I was invited to one of their weekly meetings. I walked into the back of Cooley Science Library and immediately noticed I was supremely underdressed. Also, it seemed as though I had missed the pregame; the club members were pretty sloshed. They were standing around, swirling the wine in their glasses, and saying things like “aromas of lemon, apple, and pear are greeted with notes of ripe pear and creamy butter scotch” and “bold fruit flavors lead into a complex, dry finish.” I replied, “When I finish, it might not be dry enough for ya.” They all stared at me, their eyes daggers.
Campo Organizes Underground Frat and Traphouse
March 17, 2018 by Leave a Comment
HAMILTON, NY — The Colgate party scene is a sensitive and unique ecosystem, with each individual carefully adapted to fit their niches. So, when the laws of nature are disrupted, the only reaction is utter chaos. When a new apex predator emerges from the ranks of the meek, one can only expect the most iconic power struggle since the Cold War and the greatest parties since heroine was openly endorsed by the medical community.
During Campus Security’s annual spring break DEA roleplay through the freshman dorms, unprecedented quantities of drugs, alcohol, and fire mixtapes were confiscated, and a monolith of Colgate hypocrisy was born. Several members of campus security entrepreneurial staff, decided rather drain the bottles and trashing the drugs they could make the college an impressive profit by selling the goods back to their desperate previous owners. “We already had a blackmarket candle retribution company,” one anonymous security officer explained. “We’d melt down the confiscated candles and sell them on Etsy. Reselling students their drugs seemed like the next step. We found this box in one of the Curtis suites labeled ‘Sin Bin where they hid all their shit, and from there we just felt these rich lil’ fucks were asking for it.”
Thus Kappa Alpha Mu Pi Omicron, Hamilton’s newest underground frat was born, soon to open to the public with rates to rival the Jugs’, inclusivity to rival the fraternities, and access to functioning sanitary bathrooms to rival both. For only seven dollars at the entrance and three dollars a shot, Colgate students can indulge in the bachean delights of their own secondhand contraband. When asking concerningly regular Jug goer, Savannah McTrustfund, about KAMPO’s beverage selection, McTrustfund responded: “They have all my favorites, the sorta deceivingly sweet hard liquors that perpetuate rape culture. There are so many Four Loko flavors here it makes it hard to decide which I want to be vomiting back up in the next four hours.”
What truly sets KAMPO apart is its wide selection of narcotics available at below market prices. “They really pay attention to their customers,” high functioning stoner Robby Riddline unsolicitedly offered between hits of his dab pen. “I mentioned to one of the guys that I had had this really dank strain taken by Campo a few days ago, the next time I came over they had the exact same kind! And they gave me such a good deal; only $80 for an eighth.”
Vying for Hamilton-wide dominance, this young buck is already locking horns with the veteran alpha. Striking straight for the heart, KAMPO has offered Michelle a full time position as hostess of their establishment. Should she chose to accept and arouse the greatest backstabbing since Brutus, civil war should surely erupt in a battle of underrage binge drinking so severe it may make us rethink the 18th Amendment.
The Rag Rates: The Baddest Bitches of Phi Delt
March 17, 2018 by Leave a Comment
HAMILTON, NY — Bad Bitch of the Month alert! Ringing in this new feature of the Rag, we could think of no one more qualified for the inaugural Bad Bitch spotlight than Phi Delta Theta fraternity. We couldn’t even pick just one member; every guy there is literally such an absolute dawg that we are making the whole fraternity the spotlight. Here are your top 5 baddies of Phi Delt:
5. Guy who had his mom stand in for him during hazing his sophomore year. Baby Brad had an Intro to Econ exam he was really stressed for but Susan took it like a champ. Running on only one hour of sleep she was able to chug a whole handle faster than any other pledge and is the reigning wrestling champion. Susan was recently awarded “bro” status for her heroic brotherly efforts. You can find her photo on the 2016-2017 composite.
4. Guy who stole a chaser from the C-Store. If you think that petty theft is a joke then think again. There is nothing better than washing down your cheap Svedka with the sweet taste of a stolen powerade. Extra points for standing up to the capitalist machine that is the C-Store.
3. The OG Shitter. This guy lent $20 to a “friend” one night and when he hadn’t been repaid by 11:00 a.m. the next morning, he shit on the guy’s desk. Do you see why we put friend in quotes now? This guy made the #3 position because he kicked off the trend of using your own shit in inconvenient places as retaliation. Rock the fuck on. (Notable successors include the elusive Beta Porch Shitter, and whoever dropped a deuce that one time on the 4th floor of the library; take that, Case-Geyer!!)
2. Tattoo Guy, aka Rick “The Ink” Johnson. When blackout drunk with your friends you should definitely always let them give you a stick and poke tattoo, in a shape of their choice. Don’t forget to make sure that it’s posted all over social media, so everyone has a chance to see your shame.
1. Fam, you already know. This baddie, known as “Hammer” Mitchelson, smashed his and his “friends’” cars, stashed the hammer and whatever else it is kids are using to smash cars with these days in a shallow stream in the woods and lit it on fire but either couldn’t figure out how to make lighter fluid flammable or got bored and quit, bringing a whole new meaning to the old college try. Obviously his master plan was foiled, and the bag was found along with receipts for the items, which were easily traceable to security tapes of him buying the goods. No, we’re not just recounting the plot of a Scooby-doo episode. This guy is P-E-T-T-Y, like to the level of Ray J circa the release of “I Hit it First.”
The 40% Curve
March 16, 2018 by Leave a Comment
For some, spring break brings relaxation, margaritas on the beach, sleeping in, and de-stressing after finishing midterms. For others, it means cold weather, Keystone withdrawal, and exams looming around the corner. Arguably, though, it’s the professors who assigned numerous midterms the week before break who have it the worst; they have to grade dozens of written-the-night-before essays and exams during their week off. This game is for them—to postpone the headache while grading those bad boys for the morning after. Give it a shot!
Players: 1+
Materials:
(1) handle of Recipe21 (understanding how bad an R21 hangover is will- help your prof recognize why it was so hard for you to think during your pre-noon chem exam)
Any Frank mixer of your choice (Sprite, cranberry juice, water, etc.)
Instructions:
– Take a drink each time your students use “affect” or “effect” in place of the other
– Take a drink for each time some form of the word “conclusion” is a student’s concluding
– Take three drinks for incorrect quotation citations/bibliographies/footnotes etc
– Make your drink stronger every time you come across an incorrect use of significant figures
– Finish your drink for an incomplete
Challenge round:
– Choose a random exam off the top of the pile and take a shot for every point missed
Sex Position: The March Madness
March 16, 2018 by Leave a Comment
This month, take your sexual exploration to the extreme with a bracket of 68 experimental fetishes and positions approved by both you and your partner. Expand your mind (as well as a few other orifices) with some real freaky shit: toefucking, in- corporating an old hamburger bun into the love-making, etc. Over the course of a month, do the nasty and vote with your partner to decide which fucked up shit comes out the victor. Share your brackets, kinkshame your friends, and find out you’re really into some ass-backwards kinks in an absolutely exhausting and libido-destroying month of horizontal hula!
Please note: we here at the Rag are not responsible for any injuries — mental or physical — that occur as a result of your dick-bending benders.
DU Immune to the Chodey Dick of McLoughlin’s Law
March 16, 2018 by Leave a Comment
HAMILTON, NY — Paul J. McLoughlin II, a name that screams, “I’ll sue your ass if you break my convoluted BP rules,” has already become an enemy of Colgate’s student body since his arrival in June 2017. From the Tail’Gate incident to his punishment of our lovely boys over at Tach, the Zoology major seems to have gotten party animals confused with actual animals–although this writer is almost positive everyone in DU has rabies. However, despite their brains rotting away and their mouths constantly frothing, the local keg-chugging strongmen have set up defensive parameters against the greasy-faced suit-and-tie menace, and their measures seem to be working. Somehow.
The weaponry down at DU includes (but is not limited to) President Casey scarecrows, 14 metric tons of salt (to scare away ghosts, vampires, WASPS, etc.), new locks on every door, a brand new password known only to close DU associates, and an XM312 heavy machine gun that can re .50 BMG rounds at a rate of 260 rpm, or, in the words of a DU brother known by the moniker of Meat, “It munches ass,” whatever that’s supposed to mean. Meat then demonstrated his weapon by ring multiple shots into a nearby car while chanting the “Delta Upsilon Ode.” He was extremely let down when the car refused to explode “like it does in the movies,” however.
Other frats haven’t been so lucky; brothers across campus are hiding any form of allegiance from plain site, instead using traditional conversational phrases to identify loyalty. The question of “Who do you know here?” will formally initiate the dialogue, with responses depending on the brother’s frat in question. For example, a Tach will tell you how much they bench, a Beta will tell you how much human shit they had to clean off their house, and any underground frat member will immediately shank you with a sharpened toothbrush and rip some white lightning off of your still-warm corpse in the name of whatever primeval god their 500μg acid trips have led them to worship. In addition to the question-answer method, quite a few members have given themselves fraternity tattoos on the most secret location of a human body; we at the Rag will have to leave that location up to your imagination.
As our readers may be aware, the Rag had called out McLoughlin previously in our February edition, going as far as to pin a copy to the board outside of his office, which was almost immediately torn down. To say the least, the Dean was unavailable for comment, although we really didn’t try too hard. Maybe we’ll just keep prodding him with editions until he actually reads them and realizes that there are some genuine complaints wrapped up in all these poop jokes. Until then, DU is the safe haven of all things slightly enjoyable yet actually disgusting when you think too much about them. Remember to pay the local meatheads a visit, and if you see a scary pale and oily man in a suit approaching you in the dead of night, throw a handful of salt at him and drunkenly sprint in the opposite direction.
The Monthly Rag 