It's time we address the ever-important campus issue of consent. I want to introduce this sober discussion within a new context, however -- DASH grilled cheese. Ultimately, extravagant DASH spending is a specialized gauge of student decision-making under the influence. I am willing to posit -- with great confidence -- that there is a positive correlation between the amount spent on frat lawn food and the number of drinks consumed by spenders. You can come up with similar correlations for hookups. If late-night frat row food were sex, the rate of consent would be huge -- a whale of a number.
DASH certainly has a unique presence in the life of a Dartmouth student. And there's nothing like hot food on a cold, hazy eve. But just like with that girl who looks great only under a black light or that guy you met at the appropriately named "trough" in Alpha Delta, you'll feel guilty about it in the morning. You spent all your money on a single sandwich, and now you can't do your laundry. Guess now there's no way to wash all that sin out of your jeans.
The College offers groups the ability to collect 'DA$H' -- which is possibly the most annoying acronym to type when you include the dollar sign -- and the majority of profits are exclusively from the inebriated. Isn't there something wrong with this? Or should we applaud charitable organizations for channeling the proceeds of debauchery into something constructive?
Unfortunately, the College cannot channel the sexual spending of its constituents. But if it did, could it set up a stage with willing unattractive people and send them home with slurred speaking, wobbling purchasers? I'd be willing to invest in that venture.
There is no doubt that philanthropy doesn't matter at all to the hungry reveler. It's all about how good it looks or tastes. The same holds true for personality. I can't believe I went home with three slices of pizza, then woke up next to crusts and moldy mozzarella. The Freudian parallels are spine-tingling.
As an occasional DASH salesman on frat row, it is difficult to reconcile my philanthropic feelings with the knowledge that the majority of my sales are made to people who cannot make responsible decisions. Exploiting those who cannot make rational choices offers a sexual reflection upon our culture of inebriation and consent. When a girl says "no, thanks" when invited to make a purchase, she probably means "yes," right? No means yes. Guess all that practice in basements has paid off. I can finally use the 100-pack of condoms I brought to College with me last year and haven't opened.
The DASH phenomenon is a perfect example of Dartmouth's willingness to take advantage of those who have the least ability to resist. How can we demand sexual consent of our peers when monetary assault is institutionalized by the Council on Student Organizations? Offering a quesadilla to a drunk person is like offering someone your tongue at a dance party -- it's nearly impossible to resist. Depending on where you put the tongue, of course ("Zach's Guide to Fellating Upperclassmen," Oct. 9, 2007). Both situations exist in the same niche of questionability. And taste.
DASH -- just like DBA -- is just play money to many of its spenders, which makes it easy to give away. Introduce the numbing effects of alcohol and you have the perfect entrepreneurial opportunity. We lack any care about the spending of our DASH -- do we take a similar approach to the sexual distribution of our bodies?
I know lots of people who'd definitely be willing to risk the overhead for something like a "Get Lei'd for Hawaiian solidarity" fundraiser. Instant pleasure on frat row comes in two forms: the edible and the bed-able. It's clear that DASH and ass have nothing to do with discretion. Dartmouth, take a look at your personal DASH sheet. Been a little bit too charitable, lately?
