Princeton's last best hope

There are probably a few things to poke fun at about Princeton Preview, like how similar it sounds to the pre-existing "Penn Preview," or how Whitman students are being handed $15 to compensate for the indignity of eating in a different dining hall. But I'm not going there, because this is a time for students to look around, take a deep breath and feel grateful. And there's nothing like talking to a prefrosh who's pumped up after surviving a 90.75 percent cull rate to remind you of that.

Without a doubt, our talented Preview hosts are doing a superb job of welcoming and enticing. And because of the University's record high selectivity (admittedly not quite as high as this newspaper initially hoped), our guests promise to be some of the most intelligent, accomplished and fascinating students in the country - in short, a pleasure to meet. But what about those few who aren't such a pleasure?

It doesn't take a National Merit Scholar to figure out that even the most well-oiled Admission Office can err from time to time. After all, Yale recently discovered that an undergraduate had been admitted based on false transcripts (but then again, that's Yale). In this light, it seems inevitable that at least a handful of you have been assigned pre-frosh so detestable that you pray to God they be struck down before next September. If this happened to you last weekend, keep praying. But if you have yet to retrieve your prefrosh, then read closely, for you might just be Princeton's last best hope.

It is your job to ensure that the most egregious pre-frosh do not make it to the Class of 2012. Yes, dear reader, you are the final hurdle in the admissions process. Identifying the very worst of the bunch (we're talking two and a half standard deviations) is mostly a matter of intuition, since the scourge can be as diverse as the student body.

Here are some signs to look out for: Did your pre-frosh bring along a "Babylon 5" DVD set to watch at night? Relentlessly mock the quality of your liquor supply, only to break into it while you're in the shower and later boot on your couch? Did the ingrate bash your life choices one time too many ("Yeah, my uncle majored in history, too. He's homeless now.")? If none of these strikes a chord, you might try what I call the "Emphysema Test": Would you meet your pre-frosh for coffee 10 years from now? If emphysema sounds better, then game over.

Once you've made the ID, you'll need to spring into action. Tailor your strategy to the individual. Does the pre-frosh drone on and on about a "passion for public policy"? Be sure to explain how Woody Woo churns out more evil-doing bankers than civil servants. If he can't stop talking about how Princeton is just like "The Rule of Four," lock him in a steam tunnel (not that they exist) and call Public Safety. Jitters over the senior thesis should be confirmed in the starkest possible terms, by you pointing out one of your still-working friends and saying, "Yeah, he used to smile, once." Is financial aid all you're hearing about? Well, Harvard's grant policy is better anyway.

It's not that you want the kid to hate Princeton; you just care too much for the rest of the Class of 2012 to let him like it.

If Princeton still looks good despite your best efforts, don't be afraid to get aggressive. Feel free to drop such bombs as, "I should have gouged out my eyes rather than come here," or if you're really on the ropes, "Hey, wanna try crack?" Say it from the heart, and you'll be fine. Because this weekend, Princeton is counting on you. Good luck.