THURSTON AVENUE—Partygoers were perplexed when Phi Alpha Rho doorman Terrance Robinson ‘25 asked them if they had three brothers before admitting them to the event.
“I think the guy was kinda in over his head,” said attendee Jared Carlson ‘24. “I thought I’d misheard [Robinson] at first, but he was insistent that I tell him my siblings’ names. I only have a brother and a sister, so I assumed I’d get turned back, but then he started asking if I had any pets. After I showed him some pictures of my dog, he said that was good enough and let me in. Nice guy, really.”
Serving in his first shift as frat doorman, Robinson was a cheerful presence, striking up conversations with attendees and eliciting stories about people’s families before admitting almost everyone. The sophomore seemed to revel in his role.
“I wasn’t really sure why the guys wanted me to ask about people’s brothers, but everyone seemed happy—and almost a little relieved—to chat,” said Robinson. “I’m an only child, so I always love hearing people get excited about their families. It makes me think about what my life would be like if I had siblings. They say being in a frat is the same idea, but just seeing how people’s eyes would light up… it just isn’t the same. Plus, some of their brothers had really stupid names. One of them was named Lester, can you believe that?”
Sources suggest Robinson will soon receive some brotherly love from fratmates peeved by the party’s horrible ratio.
WEST CAMPUS — Known for employing unique initiation rituals that date back to Medieval Europe, brothers of Sigma Zeta Delta are reportedly renovating the house dungeon to comply with New York State hazing laws in preparation for this season’s pledge class.
“The state legislatures mandate we remove the rust from all the pokers, chains and nails, so we’re taking this weekend to make sure our new members will be tetanus-free through the process” said Social Chair Roger Sullivan ‘18, as he polished off a pair of shackles.
“It wasn’t too long ago that I myself was shut inside that iron maiden for two days as a pledge. But we don’t want any of my caked-on blood to infect our new brothers, so it’s time to disinfect.”
Once he had finished rebuffing the fraternity’s knee-splitter, Sullivan concluded his hard day’s work by releasing a member of last year’s pledge class from the pillory.
My name is Paul Goodman and I am, in fact, in a secret society. That’s right — I’m in Quill and Dagger. I really want to emphasize that though I am actively telling you that I am in a secret society, I really would appreciate if you kept this information to yourself. I’m only telling you, not because you asked, but because I feel that you deserve to know how accomplished I am.
I appreciate your discretion. It is, after all, a secret society. I know you must have a lot of questions, but I cannot answer them because the nature of my activities in the classified organization are very much private… but you should know that I am involved, and I earned my spot.
What’s this I’m wearing right now? Don’t even ask, I can’t tell you. Well, it’s my secret society cloak. I wear it when I participate in our furtive gatherings.
I’m guessing you’re also curious about the distinct lacerations on my arms. Those are snake bites from our initiation ceremony. But don’t ask — this information is not public knowledge.
I’m sure you’re curious where I’m going right now. I can’t really say, but I’m going to our ultra covert lair on top of Lyon Hall. You really can’t ask what’s inside it — even if I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you that skulls of former members are encased in gold and displayed on the walls. We drink century-old wine out of them.
Thank you for understanding that I can’t disclose any information. I can’t really tell you why I’m excited for tonight, but I will be drinking the sacrificial emu blood from one of our rituals. Don’t tell anyone, but if you walk next to the clock tower at 3 a.m. you can see us in our cloaks leading the emu to slaughter.
By the way, did you see they printed my name in the Daily Sun?
TRIPHAMMER ROAD — A coalition of fraternities has purchased a tanker truck of beer to be shared among Cornell’s frats during pledge season. This unprecedented effort will save thousands of dollars on the millions of gallons of beer that the frats collectively purchase during the semester.
“I know this is sorta making history, and it was mostly my idea,” Frederick Carlson ’16 said, laying a hand on the side of the truck. “The hardest part was ordering a keg that’s 2,000 times the size of a normal one. Hopefully we’ll have enough beer to keep the new pledges constantly blacked-out.”
As the mega-keg arrived at the Epsilon Upsilon annex, one anxious freshman observed the scene. Said Jackson Morris ‘19, “I’m sure it’ll be worth pledging… I’m pretty sure… But that’s a lot of beer. I heard they’re gonna make us swim in that thing.”
“We spent hours calling truck companies, and Brad could barely attach the tap to the semi– but it’s all worth it for that moment you grab a ladder to do the most epic kegstand of your life,” Carlson said.