To the Editor:
Retching bent over see-through bags already draped in skeins of vomit, toking then chugging, then toking while chugging, staggering over row upon row of foam-topped fermented barley mouthwash brimmed for the bob splash of an incoming pong ball--I've been there, done that, seen that done ad nauseum. The injecting went on every weekend, almost every weekday, of the four years I lived here and it still goes on strong as ever. Task forces with a weakness for impotence, like the committee formed to reform campus drinking habits, plague us with the same resilience. No one has pointed that out with more force or clarity than Randy-Michael Testa. I'd welcome the sight of any student, or perhaps alum, his liver yearning for the beer-washed haze days of yesteryear, with the heart to bear his guts like Randy did when faced with the colossal waste of money and time put to forming and funding committees that serve little other purpose than to give those parents that fork out monthly tuition tithes a reassuring pat on the hand with the gruff whisper, "We, Dartmouth College, are doing something about it." Yes, we're doing something about it?
We're abolishing single-sex fraternities and sororities. That's right. We're cutting down on binge drinking. No, really. We're reinstating prohibition. Really?
How do you keep your friend and buddy, yeah that brother whom you've pledged to and honor, that sister you care for like a sibling, out of sick hold in Dick's House with a blown .24% BAC, their lower members answering no comment to queries about last night's incoherent gymnastics? With more committees and task forces and graphs on rounds of cups inhaled per hour and grim administrators with grimmer words of moral reprobation?
No. You reach over and take the beer out of her hand.
