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Hazing Stories Are Ridiculously Embellished

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I’ve already discussed the media’s perpetual unwillingness to appropriately report the positive statistics relating to Greek life, which makes a simple google search of “fraternity hazing” even more infuriating. Yes, there are of course times in which chapters at certain universities have gotten out of control. No reasonable person on this planet would dispute that. But for those of us who actually lived it, you know, instead of the supposed “experts” with a worthless Liberal Arts degree munching Cheetos under the guise of “veganism,” the portrayal of our beloved organizations could not be more inaccurate. Or infuriating.

If you believed everything you read on the internet you’d think elephant walks, drinking to the point of total incapacitation (not voluntarily, of course), horrible physical abuse, and borderline sexual assault are the Tuesday night norm for essentially every fraternity in this country. Yet, again, for those of us who actually know and are not “anonymous” sources (AKA kids who didn’t get a bid) these debauched antics are nothing more than a story, an urban legend of fraternity days of old that exists in minds, blogs, and the darkest corners of an otherwise honorable system of brotherhood.

My horrific hazing experience at a large university with a well-regarded Greek system consisted of drinking beer, delivering Chipotle, jogging around campus, and doing my best not to spill daily coffee orders. Was I a worker mule after parties? Absolutely. Did I ever put my dick in between some guy’s ass? Hell no. Nobody beat the hell out of me, I never circled imperfections on near naked women (another classic rumor) and at no point did I feel pressured to consume substances to point of hospitalization (though, in fairness, I may have tried voluntarily). I didn’t kill any rodents or eat a gold fish, nor did I repeatedly skip class. Even during hell week. It simply did not happen.

Instead, like 99 percent of the rest of us, I performed remedial chores, got good grades, experienced the best parties of my young life, and proved why I deserved to be a trusted friend and brother for four years. Boo hoo. How awful. Now, I’m not so naive as to believe the proverbial turd in the punch bowl does not exist. I get it, as with everything in life, there are people who take things too far, behaving like moronic mongoloids and soiling what should be an admirable reputation for the rest of us. These people, for lack of a better term, are fucking idiots and do not deserve the right to represent a proud organization like ours.

Apparently, the media thinks we’re all very stupid. Is anyone really gullible enough to think kids attending upper tier universities, that achieve a higher grade point average than the rest of the undergraduate enrollment and on average make more money than non-Greeks, would really risk their $50k a year education and future on throwing a pledge off the roof? Really? Does anyone actually think fraternity men, much maligned for an obsession with money and status, would then paradoxically make themselves untouchable toxic waste to employers and grad schools?

No fucking way.

Vince Young’s remedial Wonderlic score does not mean most NFL quarterbacks are intellectually limited. The new Blair Witch being unwatchable does not mean horror movies are terrible. E.Coli does not make all hamburgers inedible. Amy Schumer’s complete lack of talent does not mean all women aren’t funny. My first two weeks of NFL picks doesn’t mean I don’t know shit about sports. Well, I guess the last one is debatable. The exception, as is always the case with topics outside of the Greek system it seems, is by no means the rule.

For every imbecile, there are 1,000 gentlemen doing exactly what they’re supposed to do to be successful, proud members of society, all while getting better grades and performing more philanthropy than any large student-based organization. I’ll take those odds, and delivering sandwiches to become a part of it.

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Siblings of Mark Wahlberg

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