This aggression will not stand. I have long suspected the administration to be the perpetrators of a dark and sinister plan to bring an end to fun on campus. Like a Mel Gibson character, holed up in a tiny apartment with a messy desk, I have spent the wee hours of the morning doing research and hashing out elaborate conspiracy theories. This time, I've caught them red-handed.
The tipoff story seemed innocuous: "Sophomores still able to sign sub-free contracts" (March 7). The story featured a series of quotes from sophomores happy to be drawing into substance-free housing. But the smoking gun was a colored map that designated which housing will be substance-free next year.
I squinted at the map. Dodge-Osborne. Lourie-Love. 1939. All of these buildings house the great party suites of their respective residential colleges, especially the infamous Zoo, where I attended my first party at Princeton. Blair: beautiful quads with furniture and feng shui perfect for Robo. And the greatest of all insults: the Forbes New Wing, home of the most savage off-Prospect parties I have ever experienced (and my stomping grounds from last year).
The administration's latest actions represent a clear and present danger to partying. The attack is two-pronged: remove the best party rooms from the public domain, and meanwhile encourage people to go the substance-free route by offering them the best housing on campus. What rooms, then, remain for substance-hungry sophomores? Assorted singles and doubles, mediocre in comparison.
And what exactly is a substance, anyway? Freshman year, I was told one of my PowerPoint presentations was "all fluff and no substance," and this was apparently bad. Hopefully Prof. Fleming will enlighten us as to the etymological and historical roots of this word in the near future. But from my research, "substance" means "wild room parties with cheap beer and maybe some Popov" (Fraser's Collegiate Dictionary, 7th Ed.). Synonym: fun. I also researched antonyms to fun and found "organic chemistry, Barry Manilow, and Frist events."
According to a recent USG press release, "Fraternities and Sororities" are the #1 issue that President Tilghman is discussing with the Trustees. The Nude Olympics and Newman's Day continue to be the subject of intense anti-fun propaganda from Nassau Hall. And in the fall of 2006, Shirley's $110 million baby, Whitman College, will become the cornerstone of the effort to undermine the eating clubs. Harvard may have a "Fun Czar," but we seem to have a special task force known as PCARE — the Princeton Committee Attempting to Ruin Everything. Look for the emergence of a dry eating club as well if Leslie-Bernard Joseph has his way, and be suspicious of an ICC president who doesn't drink, even if he is a friend of mine.
Flash forward to the year 2010. "The Zoo" has been renamed "The Arboretum" and is a flourishing study group site. The rowdiest eating club on the Street has been converted into a Writing Center. And on the advice of the BSU, eating club membership is "randomly assigned like the residential colleges" ("Campus views on survey diverge," Feb. 24). At least no one feels left out anymore, but fun is dead for everyone.
Or we could take arms now against a sea of sobriety! In the immortal words of the Beastie Boys, "Fight for your right to party!" And if the War on Fun is as impossible to win as the War on Terror (just ask any left-leaning Woody Woo professor), there may be hope for us "insurgents" yet. If we succeed, we just may want to come back for the hypocritical booze-fest that is Reunions and shout, "Three beers for Old Nassau!" Powell Fraser is a politics major from Atlanta, Ga. He can be reached at pfraser@princeton.edu.