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 
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