Posts by Jacko:
If you’re concerned that the stakes of rushing a Greek house on campus will not be high enough to hold your interest, never fear; you don’t have to wallow around your ennui any longer: Rushin’ Roulette is here. Go ahead and grab that revolver you got last Christmas out of your drawer, and prepare yourself for the most exciting – and also possibly the last – day of your existence!
- Alert GLOS that you intend to participate in “alternative rush.” They’ll know what this means. The brothers and sisters in your houses of interest will be alerted so that they can gauge approximately how many members of the house should be packing heat at any given time.
- You will need to attend a GLOS session, as well as a Rushin’ Roulette Bystander Initiative (RRBI) Overview session. Please arrive on time.
- Remember that bystanders are expected not to interfere with the death wishes of any potential new members. Come on, do you really want to ruin their fun?
- As a PNM, all you need to do is walk in the front door of your fraternity or sorority of choice (we recommend going to your first choice first because… well, you know). The brother or sister in charge of alternative rush (the alternative rush chair, or ARC) for that house will eventually approach you. You will recognize them by their blue and red attire, as well as their icy gaze.
- Alternative rush players will be taken into a separate room (or attic) in groups of six, and the ARC will facilitate gameplay. *Feel free to make small talk or grab a snack at this point. Remember, the ARC is practically as nervous as you are!
- The ARC will hand the first player a Nagant M1895, as Dartmouth tradition dictates. In one of the six chambers will be a gold-plated titanium bullet. The first player must place the trigger against his or her temple and pull the trigger. They will either die or not die, it’s pretty straightforward.
- The game continues clockwise, and keeps going as long as no one has died yet.
- So it’s your turn? Now comes the fun part: you will hear the sweet click of life 100% of the time! That’s because if you do not win Rushin’ Roulette, you won’t hear any sound at all. You’ll be killed instantly. So it’s kind of win-win.
- *Please don’t bother reading this step unless you have survived past step 8.* Congratulations, you’ve made it! You are now a new (brother/ sister) of (insert house name here)!
- Don’t worry about your friend over there. (S)he wouldn’t have have been able to handle pledge term anyway.
In 1972, Dartmouth College began admitting women after over 200 years of being an all male institution. However, any woman at Dartmouth will tell you that this place still has a long way to go before true gender equality is reached. While many feminists and activists are doing their part to combat sexism at Dartmouth, one of the most sexist institutions on our campus often goes unchallenged. This is a call to action. I believe I am not alone among Daughters of Dartmouth when I say that, as long as there is a building called Dick’s House, we need a Vagina’s Trench.
As you may or may not know, the word “dick” is a synonym for the male genitalia, the penis. Everywhere in our society, women are inundated with penis-centered language that makes them feel unwelcome. While there are several men’s names derived from words for penis (John Thomas, Peter, Dick, and its derivative, Richard) there is only one female name derived from a word for vagina, Gina. In our culture, penises are everywhere, and it is our job as women to make vaginas just as prominent.
It is not only the title that we should take issue with, but the history of the building itself. A quick google search will tell you that the cornerstone for Dick’s House was laid by the president of Dartmouth, Joshua Davis, along with the class of 1927. I would like to remind you that, because the college was not coed at the time, not one single vagina was involved with the laying of the cornerstone of Dick’s House. Troubling indeed. But it doesn’t end there. Under the cornerstone, the class of 1927 laid a ten-foot long scroll. Does this shape remind you of anything? Probably not a vagina. I might remind you that every time you visit Dick’s House, this scroll is still buried, under your feet, reminding women that they are unwelcome in this place of healing.
If you still doubt the need for a Vagina’s Trench, I will direct you to Dick’s House’s official website. Even on the section of the website dedicated to women’s health, a quick apple f search will bring up two instances of the word “dick,” and no instances of “vagina”, not to mention the word “pussy,” which is also absent. If you still doubt that the Dick’s House website is sexist, consider that on the home page of the site there is even information about Ebola. While no one on this campus has Ebola, approximately three thousand people have vaginas. Think about where Dick’s House’s priorities lie.
As for the shape of the new Vagina’s structure, we need a trench. Since Dick’s House is a solid, penis-like building, it is only fitting that Vagina’s Structure take the shape of a warm, cavernous vagina. I maintain that the trench shape is also necessary if Dartmouth was ever invaded. Vox Clamantis In Vagino Trencho.
My Dad is such an asshole. He’s always yelling at me to be more responsible and stuff. What’s his problem?!
Like just the other day he said that I don’t “contribute anything to the tribe” and all I do is “take up all the space in the cave and eat all the elk.” He’s such a jerk.
Like one time, he came back from hunting and asked if I had collected all the firewood. I said I hadn’t gotten around to it yet and he flipped a shit. He said he works hard to bring steaming elk carcasses to our cave every week and I couldn’t even be bothered to go get some sticks. I just can’t stand his shit anymore.
The worst was I was minding my own business, just sleeping underneath my elk skin and he woke me up and said I had to “participate” in the rain ritual, or else it won’t rain for a fortnight. That was when I really lost it.
I said, “I hate the rain ritual! I hate everything!”
He said, “We don’t have a choice son.”
I said, “Yes we do goddamnit! You’re the one that made us leave San Francisco to go live with this group of weirdoes in this goddamn prehistoric commune! Everyone here smells like shit! I was going to go to Berkeley next year! And the elk are endangered, you prick!”
Then he just said, “Ooo ooo, ahh ahh,” and hit me on the head with his club.
My Dad is such an asshole.
You may be asking yourself “is this banana actually talking to me or am I hallucinating?” My answer: who is to say? Do we actually dream at night or do we awaken to our real lives that we just label as dreams? Reality is a construct. Life is a construct. What you consider real is only real in your mind. Are words real? Or are they just audible placeholders, building invisible bridges and painting unseeable murals on the walls of our world?
A man is but the sum of his principles, but if those principles have no foundation, how is a man to stand? I don’t claim to have the answers to your questions, I am no genius, but I know what I believe, and that is the fraught nature of belief itself. By succumbing to your own mind’s perceptions and constructions of your surroundings, you are merely digging deeper into a solipsistic hole with no ladder out, now tunnel away.
The questions you ask and clarity you seek only serves to divide and pidgeonhole. By labeling what happens versus what is imagined, you enable a polarity of reality that dichotomizes truth and false. We all know the world is not that binary. We all know that we live in a spectrum of colors and sounds, emotions and thoughts. The world is not your ark to divide up two by two, but rather your Jackson Pollock painting to splatter. However, never frame it, leave the canvas open, make the canvas your wall.
Use reds, blues, pinks, mauves, oranges, blacks, whites and purples. And also use yellows. Because bananas are yellow. And I am a talking banana.
- Your mom eagerly Skypes with you twice a week!!
- Your parents send you care packages on every holiday!!
- Your mom doesn’t snarkily correct you when you use poor grammar in your text messages!!
- Your mom never raises her voice when she talks to you on the phone!!
- Your dad never threatens to cut you off financially anymore!!
- You finally call your mom “Mom” and not “Margaret” !!
- Your mom finally calls you “Derek” and not “my bastard middle child” !!
- Your dad slips you a $20 when he comes to visit instead of slipping you an uppercut to the jaw!
- Your mom emails you New Yorker articles to keep you cultured and intellectually capable instead of emailing you to remind you of your “deplorable cultural ignorance” and how you spend way too much time reading those “trashy graphic novels” and hiding out in the basement playing Halo with “that bitch Sarah” while eating a tub of high calorie cookie dough that will make you and Sarah both break out into a “sea of curdling acne”!!
- Mom and Dad will both finally force out their first ever “We love you, honey” when you return home for your first winter break.
Baker – Someone who smokes a lot of weed. Synonym: pothead
Dirt Cowboy – A dangerous sex position involving a ten-gallon hat and chai tea powder mix.
Farmer’s Market – An economic phenomenon, specific to New England, caused when the market is flooded with a surplus of agricultural goods, leading to increased cheese prices.
Foco – Portmanteau of “fucking loco.” Weird. Crazy. Bit touched in the head.
Green – If your mucus is this color, you disgust me.
The Hop – Referring to the one-legged style of walking that one must adopt after losing a shoe in a pile of snow.
The Dartmouth Seven – An exclusive secret society comprising 7 immensely powerful upperclassmen, who supposedly possess the power to decide Collis’s daily soup menu.
The Stacks- An illness, characterized by vomiting and caused by eating too many stacks of pancakes at Lou’s.
Wheeler- Someone who travels around campus exclusively by scooter, rollerblades, or Segway.
1. Be really smart. Intelligence can go a long way. It can get you into a good school. It can get you a good job. It can even make you understand things better. Definitely helps if you’re smart.
2. Be really attractive. Most attractive people find it easier to do things like look good or date other attractive people. Being attractive is a great way to make people like to look at you.
3. Be tall. It’s kind of part of being attractive, because a lot of people find tall people attractive. Being tall can also help in sports, reaching things and walking faster.
4. Be funny. Everyone likes a good joke. If you’re really funny, people will probably like your jokes. Humor can go a long way to alleviate a mood or build social connections. If you’re funny you’ll probably be more popular.
5. Be popular. It is a lot easier to do things if you are popular. That means that more people like you and/or want to be you, which always helps. You also get to have more friends.
6. Be talented. Having talents are really useful if you want to be good at things. Take music for example. If you’re talented at music, you’ll probably be a good musician. The same works for other stuff, like sports or jokes. Try being talented, and you’ll really be happy with the things you’re good at.
The Ice Bucket: Never throw a lame pre-game again! Invite guests over to your pad to cool off with a chilly iced beverage, served with fresh ice cubes from your classy ice bucket.
The Beach Bucket: A bucket staple. Choose a bright color that says, “I am fun!” Choose a large bucket with neat designs for added coolness factor.
The Giant Beach Bucket: No hot tub? No problem! Your friends will love splashing around in your giant lawn bucket. Just make sure they have a way to get out when the lukewarm water you poured in inevitably cools down.
The Bucket Hat: Nothing says fall like a classic bucket hat. One look at you and everyone will know you’re down for a good time.
Bucket Seats: What better way to pimp your ride than with these these funky and functional booty supporters? Everyone will be begging to ride in your car on the way to the beach, and NOT Jeff’s stupid convertible.
The Chum Bucket: When EBAs just won’t do, there’s no better place to satisfy your late night junk food cravings.
An Open Letter to Dumbledore and the Hogwarts Community:
Hogwarts needs a Hillel House. A Hillel House would provide space for Jewish witches and wizards to engage with, study, and advance their relationship with magical Judaism. It would serve as a place of academic and spiritual discourse for magical Jews to explore their faith and understand how to worship God in a society where we can materialize or transform whatever we want, traverse thousands of miles in an instant and make a jelly bean of any flavor. But above all, it would help fight the rampant anti-Semitism on this campus.
For too long, the school’s magical Jewish community has existed at a status of invisibility and marginalization. The placement of Care of Magical Creatures excursions on Saturday mornings makes it impossible for magical Jews to both keep Shabbat and learn outside of the classroom. Hogwarts’ Autumnal Feast always seems to be scheduled on Yom Kippur, a Jewish day of fasting. The school’s kosher options are few and far between, normally consisting of just swamp cabbage and pumpkin bread. Not to mention the “only available worship space” on Jewish Holidays just happens to be right next to the Womping Willow.
On top of these institutional obstacles, Jewish students seem to encounter another bias incident every day. In my Charms class, one girl keeps turning my yarmulke into a bat. And whenever I eat in the great hall, I have to sit next to the potion’s master or else students slip pork’s bane into my swamp cabbage.
The attacks are not just directed at me. One of our brightest young Jewish wizards, Herschel, can barely show his face in class. Every time he goes to Defense Against the Dark Arts, one or two jokesters turn his pais—or as the students so lovingly call them, “Jew curls,”—into gilly-worms. Do you know how many charms it takes to retransfigure gilly-worms? A lot of charms.
Our ability to practice our rituals has even come under fire. Last year’s Passover service was interrupted with a hail of dungbombs, the ark that holds our torah was filled with pixies, and this winter, our Hanukkah menorah’s candles were replaced with Shrieking Shirley fireworks purchased from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Requests for an investigation were ignored.
We, the Jewish witches and wizards of Hogwarts, need refuge from these patterns of intolerance. We don’t need to be constantly harassed over the fact that a burning bush can be summoned by any competent third-year with a simple fire incantation. And we shouldn’t have to feel unsafe. One Jewish first-year loves quidditch and is a talented seeker, but is too afraid to continue playing on her house team after receiving anonymous threats that she would soon get a bludger launched at her “ugly Jew face” This cannot go on.
Once a student spat at me and said her patronus was a swastika. That’s not even an animal.
These incidents are not the cause of isolated bigots, but rather part of a widespread, toxic environment. That’s why we so desperately need a Hillel House. We have already found a Jewish house ghost, Mortally-Maimed Moishe, who is completely on-board. We have designed robes—blue and white—and we think we would name the house Hirschenbaum after Chaim Hirschenbaum, the first Jewish wizard to serve as secretary of owl postage in the ministry.
A Hogwarts Hillel would be a necessary source of refuge from the storm of anti-Semitism, but the storm itself must be stopped as well. Dumbledore, you cannot allow Hogwarts to continue to be a home for such vicious attacks and hatred. If the school does not make any steps towards progress and inclusivity, we will report the abuse to the ministry. We have powerful friends in Gringotts.
Brindlebarb is a 5th year Herbology Major
John Réalguy, Professor of Philosophy, has been teaching at Dartmouth for over 5 years now. While addressing a class last Monday, Réalguy could be heard saying, “You all know I’m not a real professor right? Frankly I’m surprised you are all still going along with this.”
Réalguy recalls how 5 years ago he wandered into the Philosophy department looking for a bathroom. “I came across one that said “For Philosophy department use only” so I lied and said that I was a professor. Ever since then they have given me classes to teach. Let me be clear that I know absolutely nothing about Philosophy.”
Students in his class Philosophy 53: Thinking Hard, report that they have never received any homework nor taken a test. “At first I thought it was kind of strange,” said Sam Pentucky ’14, “but you have to admit the man knows his stuff. I’ve never heard ideas presented in this way before. It has changed how I look at the world.”
“After five years it’s hard to come up with this stuff everyday,” admitted Réalguy, “So my general lesson plan is just to turn on the news and say literally anything that comes to mind. Some days it’s a rant about how 9/11 was a lie. Other days it might be about how yoga pants could be the key to eternal salvation.”
Reviews of his class are always overwhelmingly positive with students commenting that he “challenged them like no other professor” and “presents ideas that no one else could even dream of.” He has had dozens of students, like Stacy Lively ’15, approach him to do research. “I remembered how sometimes in class he would go take a nap in the corner because he needed to “get over a hangover so he could think better.” Who else is going to teach you such practical skills?”
Réalguy notes that while it has been a great five years, it has been getting trickier to keep things going. “The backstory is always the hardest part. I have to be careful what I make up. I once accidentaly told people six different ways my aunt died so I have to remember that I have six different aunts.”
For Réalguy, teaching has become “the most fun hobby I’ve ever taken on. But who knows how long it will last?” As of the time of writing the process had begun for considering Réalguy for tenure.