Frat boys—I salute you. I don’t know how you do it, but you do it so darn well.
Handsome, intelligent and eloquent—I gush at the mere thought of you. But this article isn’t about Robert Downey Jr.—it’s about frat boys.
So how can I sufficiently describe you fellahs? I mean, we all pass you on Commonwealth Avenue, take classes with you and sometimes make out with you. And yet, we know so little about you. This is why I’ve decided to investigate your Greek-ness. Call me Dora the Explorer. Actually, don’t.
I think you have a bad rap. You’re more than a sexy bod and great head of hair. Shizz, I’m talking about Robert Downey Jr. again, my bad.
(*Note to self: stop watching “Iron Man” while writing weekly column.)
But I digress. Oh yes, the frat boy. In order to better understand you, we need to get anthropological. I’m talking classification. I’m talking archaeological digging in the dirt for stuff. I’m talking cargo pants, hiking boots and CamelBaks. I’m talking dissecting the essence of humanity through the epistemological questioning of your very nature. Okay, I took that last one too far. But I am talking classification.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying you can classify everything about the frat boy. For example, their overwhelming plenitude of manliness cannot be quantified. It can’t even be accurately described. It just is.
Secondly, even attempting to classify their “role” within society would prove futile. The magnitude of their importance is indescribable. They are the pulse of our people, the heartbeat of humanity. If you think I’m exaggerating—think again.
Do you know what would happen to our economy if frat boys stopped purchasing booze? Liquor shops would be kaput. Do you know what would happen to our culture if frat boys stopped throwing ragers? We would only know beer pong as a fantastical myth. Do you know what would happen to society if frat boys stopped creating brotherhoods? Society would be brotherless.
Seriously guys—don’t underestimate the power of the brotherhood.
Now, I’ve got zero qualms with your species, frat boys. Heck, y’all impress me. Mentoring male freshmen and guaranteeing them access to a rockin’ social life? Righteous. Sure, you may not be a brotherhood biologically—but beer is thicker than blood. Or something like that.
And so, I’ve developed the following classification system for you. I must admit, the band LMFAO had a little something to do with it. Because of my infatuation with the utterly baller song “Party Rock Anthem,” I’ve decided to apply it to you. Well, those of you who are frat boys.
Classification 1: The Party
We are all too familiar with the frat boy’s party life. Rampant with Natty Light, cheap vodka and biddies, ragers are the breeding ground for a sexy time—and an STD. But these parties are more than shots, dirty dancing and sloppy hookups, these parties are the roots of all meaningful relationships. Think about it. Who is your most valuable friend? Is it the person you met in bio lab? Nope. Is it the person you bonded with during freshman orientation? Nah. It is that person who held your hair back while you booted up jungle juice. If that isn’t friendship, then I don’t know what is.
Classification 2: The Rock
I’m sure you’ve seen it before. The infamous spray-painted rock at the Boston University Beach. This rock is an integral part of the frat boy’s life. During the process of joining a fraternity, pledge brothers must maintain their fraternity’s letters on the rock. If a different frat paints over the rock—they’ve got to re-paint it. It’s a beautiful tradition. The frat boys are paying tribute to their cavemen brothers by illustrating on rocks—sans the bison and deer, of course.
Classification 3: The Anthem
Ah yes, the frat boy anthem. We know it well. It goes a little something like this: CHUG, CHUG, CHUG, CHUG. Ring a bell?
Some say the anthem is a primitive chant, a tribute to their hairy ancestors. Others say it’s a dangerous jingle, brainwashing boys to down that 12th beer, even if it means blackout (score!).
But it isn’t either of these things. This anthem is the solution to humanity’s problem. What is humanity’s problem? Hell if I know. But I do know that this anthem is going to solve it. I firmly believe that if we all make more of an effort to “chug, chug, chug, chug” through the bad—we will be a stronger nation. A stronger people. A stronger brotherhood.
So come on people, drink up. You can blame it on the a-a-a-a-alcohol—we’ll be a better people for it, I promise. Although that, my alcoholics-in-training, is for another article.
Samantha Friedman is a senior in the College of Arts & Sciences and a weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press. She can be reached at [email protected].