Girl, You'll be a Woman ... Soon
Every day I open The Dartmouth, our newspaper and see the same thing. "Katie Greenwood hasn't the faintest clue." "Katie Greenwood has got it wrong." "Don't judge me just because I'm part of the Greek system." "We're inclusive." "We're mutually selective. It's all about the fit." And to this I say, "Who cares?"
Last night, I started this article, intending to write about the life and times of the apparently incendiary Katie Greenwood, when I slammed headfirst into my usual 11th hour writer's block. So, pulling my usual stunt, I turned to my roommates for ideas: Introducing a new character in this week's column, Reid the Roommate. Reid is a Virgo, and enjoys freshwomen, dancing and ribbed sweaters. You've already met LeVaur and Varun.
Me: Hey, Reid. What do you think I should write about for tomorrow?
Reid: Why don't you write about this sorority crap? Every day the same thing. I'm getting sick of it.
Me: Well, I would, but I don't want to lose my balls to some militant sorority sister. [Nervous laughter] I hear they don't like brownies or instigators.
LeVaur: You just gotta shake the haters off, Anil. Shake the haters off.
Anil: Easy for you to talk, man. It's not your testes we're talking about.
Anil: Say, what do you think about this whole sorority thing?
Varun: I'd love to say something intelligent and insightful, but I really just don't give a crap. I'd rather read Doonesbury. You know, that guy went to Dartmouth.
Anil: Nah, man. He went to Yale.
Varun: [Angry pause] Our moose is better than their bulldog.
It's true. Our moose is much better than the Yale bulldog, and we've always got Dr. Seuss, but the sorority issue remains unresolved.
To be honest, I don't really care one way or the other. However, it really grates upon me to have to see the same thing written every single day, with a new person's name on it. It's a classic example of what we experts call "overkill."
Before I go any further, I should clarify what I mean by overkill. Last term, some pretentious guy challenged my word usage; but, to the surprise of everyone, except myself, I had used the word correctly. However, to avoid any further quarrels, my dictionary defines overkill (n.) as:
Destructive nuclear capacity exceeding the amount needed to destroy an enemy; as in "Dude, those bombs we dropped on Japan were classic overkill, man."
Excessive killing. (Well, we'll leave this one alone. Some things are still sacred.)
An excess of what is necessary or appropriate for a particular end; for instance, "The endless self-aggrandizement of these few sorority girls is overkill."
Other recent examples of overkill include, but are not limited to: the Chandra Levy/Gary Condit fiasco, more snow in Buffalo, my (remarkably balanced, sorority sister) girlfriend packing a suitcase for a one-day visit, the Student Assembly's insistence that it matters, Beatles on the oldies station and bombing the Afghans into oblivion.
Of course, the most famous of all overkills is Urge Overkill, who covered that great Neil Diamond song, "Girl, You'll be a Woman Soon." I suggest that henceforth perhaps offended parties should resist the urge to overkill. The Greek system, unfortunately, has a history of self-importance. Too frequently those with an opposing view are brow-beaten into submission rather than engaged constructively. But there I go being obtuse. Let me come out and say what I mean. This girl has an opinion. It might or might not be correct. Bullying her and boring the rest of us to tears with no less than eight columns and letters does no one any good, other than cushion a few egos.